Season oƒ the Witch
by F 0 R E V E R M 0 R E
Summary: "For she was blind, but now she sees, that she belongs to me." A cruel and sinister grin makes it way onto her sinfully red painted lips. Tony/OC/Loki(!manipulative!). Sequel to: The Game Changer.
1. Old Habits Die Hard

**Season oƒ the Witch**  
_An Iron Man 2, Thor, and Avengers Fanfiction_

_Season oƒ the Witch © F0REVERM0RE _  
___Iron Man 2, Thor, and the Avengers_ © Marvel Studios

_FULL SUMMARY: "For she was blind, but now she sees, that she belongs to me." A cruel and sinister grin makes it way onto her sinfully red painted lips. Evelyn thought that everything is finally falling into place: she's learning to suppress Drusilla, Emily has forgiven her, Tony says he still loves her; but her world crumbles (along with a bit of her sanity) with just a simple kiss. Tony/OC/Loki. Sequel to The Game Changer._

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**Chapter One:**  
**_Old Habits Die Hard_**

"_'I am Iron Man.' You think you're the only superhero in the world?" __The uninvited guest snorted. "Mr. Stark, you've become part of a bigger universe."_

"_I know,__ that's why I did it," Tony retorted. Now that he was publicly known as Iron Man, he was a part of Evie's worl__d__—__S.H.I.E.L.D's world. They won't get rid of him that easily._

_The man chuckled. "Clever. Stupid, but clever."_

"_Who the hell are you?"_

"_Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm here to talk to you about the Avenger Initiative."_

"_So you're the head honcho who took Evie away from me," Tony drawl__ed__, eying the darkened silhouette of the man __who sat__ comfortably on his couch. "What did you do to J.A.R.V.I.S?"_

"_He's taking a bit of a nap."_

_Tony remembered the last time his A.I took 'a nap__', his hands clenched into fists at his sides. __"__This...Avengers Initiative...is Evie going to be a part of it?"_

"_I knew you were going to ask that question," the man, Nick, replied smugly. _

_Tony grew impatient by Nick's lack of a real answer. "Well?" he grumbled. _

"_Miss Addams __isn't stable. Planning anything for her foreseeable future isn't wise."_

"_Can I see her?"_

"_No."_

"_Can I talk to her?"_

"_No."_

"..._Will I ever see her again?" he asked, though he __had a suspicion what the answer would be: No. __The arc rector felt like it was burning a hole in his chest (well, another one). His stomach formed knots, clenching and contorting, making him feel sick to his very core._

_Nick rose from the couch and strutted up to Tony with his hands behind his back. When he was close enough, Tony could see the __intruder of his home clearly: __dark skinned, bald, clad in black leather, eye patch, __all-knowing __smirk on his lips__. __The C.E.O of Stark Industries could see how this man would be perceived as intimidating, __but at the moment, __Tony only saw him as the man standing in the way of him and the woman he loved._

_Tony took Nick's silence as his answer. "Well, in that case: no. I don't want to be a part of your super secret boy band." He turned away, heading for his workshop so he can begin on waking up J.A.R.V.I.S. "Call me when you have something worth my time."_

_"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, Mr. Stark," Nick warned._

_That was the second time someone told him that._

_"Actually, I do," he replied before jogging down the spiral staircase which lead to his workshop._

Tony pours himself a glass of scotch despite the fact that it is only ten in the morning. He woke up late. Again. Plus, screw it, he doesn't have anything planed for the day; Pepper may come and bug him about "important" duties, but he can cross that bridge when it comes.

He doesn't know why that memory of first meeting Nick Fury keeps popping into his mind, it just does; every time he is preparing to press play. It was back when he had hope. Although, like always, he managed to screw up and has been aimless ever since.

Taking his scotch, Tony saunters to over to the couch of his home theater down in his workshop, heavily plopping down. He takes a sip of the amber liquid, welcoming the burning sensation traveling down his throat.

"Lights off J.A.R.V.I.S. Play video number two under the 'You Ruined It Fucker' file."

"Yes, sir," comes J.A.R.V.I.S' ever so obedient reply. He has stopped trying to convince Tony that his actions thus far is not healthy, both physically and mentally.

And as ordered, the lights in the workshop are shut off and the large plasma TV mounted on the wall in front of him is turned on, emanating a soft blue glow that slightly burns Tony's eyes because he has stared at that screen for hours on end without rest. On the screen, J.A.R.V.I.S quickly opens the 'You Ruined It Fucker' file that Tony created which contains every bit of information he has on Evie; there are only two videos though, the first contains Evie's performance as the Swan Princess, and the second is the self recorded video message that he received from her about a week ago (or has it been longer than that? The days blur together now); the video that inspired the file's title it is inputted in.

He mentally beats himself almost everyday for not having more videos of her to watch, there were plenty of opportunities and reasons to record every graceful movement she makes.

"Cut off all communications until I give you the okay to turn them back on."

"Yes, sir."

Tony is compelled to take a rather large gulp of his scotch when Evie's face pops onto his TV. He swears, every time he sees the video, she gets even more beautiful than before, more fairy tale like. Her hair is silky and shinny, her skin is fair and smooth of blemishes save for the slight tinge of red in her cheeks, her thin but pouty lips are the color of the purest pastel pink, and her eyes (slightly magnified due to her glasses) are glimmering and shockingly blue because of the intense lighting of the room she is in.

White is all Tony can say while thinking about the room: white walls, clear chair made of glass, and even the scrub top she is wearing is white.

How was he ever with such a beautiful creature as pure and innocent as she? Why did she want someone as tainted as him to begin with?

Evie is gnawing on her bottom lip, and her eyes are staring off to the side, away from the camera recording her. When Tony first saw the video, he thought that she probably doesn't know that she is being recorded. Well, until her gaze shifts towards the camera, as if she knows that he is watching and looks straight at him. She pushes her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

"Hi, Tony."

Damn. Her voice gets him all the time. So light and warm yet with a hint of caution. Tony takes another drink, his grip on the glass tightening.

"I'm not suppose to be doing this," she frowns, "but I just had to talk to you."

She chuckles, snorting humorlessly. "I just woke up from another drug induced coma, so that makes," she counts with her fingers, "three times, which is, uh, bad according to Phil and Nick. But they say that I'm making progress — I don't have to take those stupid pills anymore at least. Oops, I'm not suppose to talk about "confidential" information, that's what I promised Nick."

She sighs heavily, shoulders rising and slumping. "I guess I should get to the point." Again, she gnaws on her bottom lip, eliciting certain urges he has yet to dabble in since she left. "I... um... went to the charity event that you supposedly host every year about firefighters I think. It was hell to convince Nick to let me go, I even cried a little," she snickers with a teasing grin. "Though I had to go with Phil, Clint, and like a dozen other agents."

To this day, Tony does not know who this, Clint, person Evie is referring to, but he has to be an agent and someone special if she specifically pointed him out; Tony still doesn't like it.

She shakes her head, knowing that she is getting off topic. "Anyway, I wanted to surprise you." She nods, eyes veering off to the side again. "I met Sam there, he was, um, Pepper's date."

When Tony first saw the video, he was surprised to learn that Sam was there with Pepper before Tony decided to make his presence known, he didn't see the F.B.I agent at all throughout the rest of event (well, for as long as he stayed before leaving after learning that his oldest friend and only father figure betrayed him, his company, and his country).

"We talked a little, shared a dance because I saw that you were already on the dance floor with Pepper. I didn't want to interrupt. But..."

This is the part that Tony hates the most. He feels his eyes ache and sting with tears he refuses to let fall. The part where he broke her heart, the part where he is the cause of her pain.

Evie smiles sadly, lips twitching and attempting to form a different kind of smile. She doesn't look into the camera when she speaks anymore, Tony knows that she is fighting back tears of her own.

"...I saw you."

His heart shatters yet again at the undertone of pain in her voice.

"Sam and I noticed you and Pepper heading out to the terrace." A wide smile spreads across her face, only fleeting. "I wanted to catch up with you. I wanted to say how much I missed you, how much I was making progress and that I was making arrangements with Nick so I could visit from time to time. But then..." She sighs. "Who are we kidding, Tony? I don't know how long I'm going to be in here, and you deserve more than just visits."

She brings a knee up to her chest, resting her chin on top of it. She licks her lips, murmuring, "Sam and I saw you and Pepper almost kiss. He left with me, or so I've been told. But tell her not to worry about him, he's fine, he's here with us now as my new part-time handler because apparently Phil is too awesome to stick with just me," she snorts. "I don't know if he's ever going to contact her again, though." Her nose scrunches. "He's kind of pissed; something about not wasting any more time on a woman who will never love him back."

Pushing at her glasses, she says, "I don't really remember what happened next, hence the drug induced coma. Sam, Phil, and Clint say that nothing _too_ bad happened. They tranquilized me before I got too out of hand."

"Evie, it's time for your lessons," a familiar voice announces from off screen. It is Sam.

"Coming," she directs over her shoulder. She gazes back at the camera. "I've got to go, and it looks like I got off topic again. I just... Don't wait for me, Tony. Move on," she shrugs, "maybe with Pepper, perhaps. You two obviously have some strong feelings toward one another. The both of you told me that you care about each other. And you go good together."

"Evie-"

"All right, all right, I'm coming already!" She huffs. Her knee drops from view, her foot heavily falling onto the floor. "Goodbye, Tony... I..." she falters, biting her bottom lip, "I love you. Don't forget that. I'll be okay."

"I love you, too," Tony murmurs to the still, cool air. He sighs, throwing his head back against the soft cushion of the couch.

"Hey, Sam, how do you turn this thing off and send the message?"

Tony chortles. Evie has never really been tech savvy. Finishing off his scotch, Tony heaves himself off of the couch to get some more (maybe bring the whole bottle back with him). "Play video number one, J.A.R.V.I.S, on repeat."

His A.I doesn't even respond when he begins to play the first video of Evie dancing, he knows when to leave Tony in peace with his own thoughts. This is something that he has to work out on his own.

Relying on memory to feel his way back to the bar, a sharp twinge – much like an electric shock – strikes at his chest. He clenches his teeth, palm pressing against his arc reactor. Damn. It has been bothering him a bit lately. Maybe it's time for another upgrade? He really does need to check on the device more often.

"Lights, fifty percent," he commands. His fatigue cannot withstand the full hundred percent of bright lights. He made it extra bright in his workshop so he can see his work better. He has to be able to see every single detail on his projects; one mistake can be fatal.

Locating the nearest mirror, Tony lifts the hem of his shirt, holding the martial well over his chest. The arc reactor glows ever so brightly as before, but Tony notices a slight discoloration around the edge. He tries to lean in close for a closer look, thinking that perhaps it is just a shadow, but it is much too dark to tell.

"Lights, seventy percent." He only needs it just a tad...

"What the fuck...?" His eyes squint, inspecting the green tinge surrounding the edge of the arc reactor and then he gapes as it visibly spreads out a fraction.

"Why is it so dark in here?" Tony tenses at the sound of Pepper's voice. "J.A.R.V.I.S, lights at full."

Tony quickly drops his shirt to cover the arc reactor, wincing when the harsh lights from above beam down, burning his corneas. He clamps his eyes shut.

"Oh, God, you're watching that video again aren't you? Tony, it's not healthy for you to keep blaming yourself, it isn't your fault that she got taken away. She needs all the help she can get in order to become better," Pepper says, earnestly. "She'll come back."

Tony grunts. He hasn't told her about the second video containing Evie's message, and he doesn't want to either. Her last words are for him only, no matter how selfish he's acting.

"Please don't let what she taught you go to waste. Don't go back to the way you were."

When Tony sharply turns around to bark at his assistant that she has no business in his personal affairs, he halts when he spots the redness in her eyes as she gazes at the dozens of empty bottles on the bar counter. Instead, he looks away, ashamed with himself.

Sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose, he says, "I assume you have something to tell me or else you would not be here."

"You look pale, are you sure you're not coming down with something?"

"Pepper."

The redhead huffs. "I came down here because I'm worried about you. You've been cooked up in this workshop for days, Tony! The press is wondering where you and Iron Man are, and they're beginning to make up stories of their own. Horrible ones."

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Stop making it so easy for them! This isn't who you are, Tony. You've never let them see you down, you've always bounced back."

"Yeah, well-"

"I know, I know — you've never have loved and lost before, I realize that. But, Tony..." Pepper marches up to him, peering up into his eyes, sternly. "You have to move on. _You_ decided to let the world know that you're Iron Man, and now they're wondering where their savior is. You brought this responsibility onto yourself, and now it's time to own up to it. Understand?"

Ah, Pepper, his rock. And she is right. As always.

The corner of Tony's mouth rises and he nods. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good. I expect to see you upstairs in no less than ten minutes for an actual meal," Pepper mutters, eying the top of his bar with distaste. "And turn that thing off, it depresses you."

Tony listlessly raises his hand to his forehead, forming a mock salute, and when he realizes what gesture he has just done, his arm falls limply to his side. Evie used to use that gesture quite a bit, also adding a cute wink and an adorable: "Aye, aye, el cap-ee-ton."

Pepper places a comforting hand on his upper-arm, gently squeezing, and rousing him from his thoughts. "I miss her, too, you know," she murmurs.

"Yeah," Tony utters quickly, clearing his throat.

Pepper raises an expectant brow. "I'll see you upstairs?"

"Yeah," he repeats, nodding. "Just give me a minute."

"Like I said, you've got ten or else I'm coming back down here and dragging you up by your ear," Pepper warns, teasing.

Tony watches Pepper travel up the stairs, making sure that she is out of view. "I'll only need a minute," he mumbles to himself. "J.A.R.V.I.S, buddy, I'm going to need you to run a couple of blood tests for me."

"Feeling under the weather, sir? Shall I suggest you have Miss Potts make an appointment with a doctor instead?"

"I want to know what I have first. Might be nothing," Tony replies, preparing himself to draw some of his blood for his A.I to test.

"Sir, I should warn you, you haven't eaten properly for the last seventy-two hours. Drawing blood at this time is unwise."

"You heard Pepper, I'm going to be eating in ten minutes. I'll be fine."

"Shall I turn off Miss Addams' dance as well?"

Tony tenses. He casts a wary glance over his shoulder at the TV still playing Evie's video. Pepper's words of worry replay in his mind, and he says, "Yeah. Turn it off."

When the screen goes blank, it feels as if he is cutting off a piece of his heart. But, again, Pepper is right; Evie is gone. She isn't going to be coming back anytime soon, and Tony always bounces back, and it is time that he does. He's Iron Man for Christ's sake! Everyone's hero. Maybe it is about time that he bask in it?

"There ya go, buddy. Make sure that we keep this between ourselves; you know how Pepper gets," Tony advises. "Call me when the tests are done."

"Yes, sir."

Tony jogs up the steps leading up to the main house with a little skip in his long strides. He is feeling much better he has to admit. Well, emotionally; physically he's beginning to kick himself for not eating, he feels like shit. Perhaps all he needed was a little pep-talk from Pepper to get him going all along?

"So," he clasps his hands together loudly, smiling, "what's for breakfast?" His grin widens when he sees that it is Pepper walking back and forth in the kitchen and not his personal chef.

* * *

**(A/N) Author's Note:** Yay, the sequel is here! Sorry that chapter one is a bit on the short side, I just wanted to explain a bit on why I think Tony began acting the way he did during IM2.

I have a lot of plans for this, and I mean a lot. Be ready for an emotional roller coaster, and I am fully prepared for some "WTF?! WHY IN THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?!" moments from you guys.

Now, it's going to start off a bit slow at first because I'm going to be showing Evie's transition into being with SHIELD and how they are training her to control Drusilla (which we're going to learn a lot about in this part of the story) and, of course, introducing her to a few key characters.

Don't forget to check out my tumblr page which will have some gif sets and edits pertaining to this story (when I feel like making some), the link is on my page. Also, check out my community which is dedicated to stories that I think are underappreciated (review wise), and if you have a story or suggestions that you would like for me to add to it, send me a PM. That is all :)


	2. Make Or Break It

**Season oƒ the Witch**  
_An Iron Man 2, Thor, and Avengers Fanfiction_

_Season oƒ the Witch © F0REVERM0RE _  
_Iron Man 2, Thor, and the Avengers © Marvel Studios_

* * *

**Chapter Two:**  
**_Make Or Break It_**

Evelyn watches numerous monitors with keen eyes; an iron suit painted hot rod red with gold accents zooms from one screen to the other, barely dodging attacks from a much larger iron suit. Iron man and the Iron Monger. The cameras that filmed the battle are crude and shaking (obviously not recorded by a professional), but she knows who it is in the Iron Man suit, fighting for his – and others' – life. She grimaces when Iron Man crashes into a public transportation bus, slicing through the large vehicle like a piece of paper.

"Shouldn't you be practicing?"

"...I am..." she mumbles, absentmindedly. Her eyes flicker to another monitor where Tony is giving his speech on when he reveals himself to be the man in the iron suit. "He did it because of me, didn't he?"

"You shouldn't ask questions you already know the answers to."

She draws her knees up to her chest, propping her chin on top of them. "Are we going to be investigating him?"

"I don't know. Perhaps."

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then."

Evelyn lifts her head and turns around to face her handler, Phil. He stands patiently in front of her closed doorway with his hands placed neatly behind him.

"He's okay, though, right? Obadiah Stane didn't hurt him too bad, did he?"

The corner of Phil's lips twitches, almost forming a smile. "I can assure you that, Mr. Stark, is back to his old self."

Evelyn's eyes narrow suspiciously, there is something that he isn't telling her. She tries to read him, but he remains impassive. "I'll get back to meditating," she grumbles in defeat, letting her knees drop heavily to the ground as her legs sprawl out lazily in front of her.

"I've been issued a brief assignment. I will be taking you to Agent Grey for the duration, he will take you to your assessment with Agent Hill today."

Evelyn groans, throwing her head back. "Another one?" she whines. "I hardly ever see you anymore." She pouts. "Might as well make Sam my permanent handler."

"Would you like for me to arrange that for you?"

Evelyn glares at Phil, she knows that he is teasing. He enjoys her company as much as she does. "Very funny," she seethes through clenched teeth.

A real smile graces Phil's lips. "Careful with that temper, Evelyn. You and Agent Hill do not have an understanding much like we do. She'll revoke your," he eyes her many television monitors "privileges." Evelyn clamps her mouth shut because she loves her TVs, it's what keeps her in-tune with the outside world beyond S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I'll be good," she promises.

The first time she failed Agent Maria Hill's—Nick's second in command—assessment, she got heavily sedated to the point that she was awake yet had no control over body, completely limp. She didn't mean it though, Maria's tests are nearly impossible to pass! She knows which buttons to press with Evelyn in order to get off a reaction that causes for her powers to slip or for her to almost lose the reins to Drusilla. She doesn't like it when she is put on that heavy of sedation, she gets stuck with Drusilla in the space between sleep and wake and Drusilla goes on to try and convince Evelyn to give her full control by telling her some disturbing stories that may or may not be true.

"Shall we get going? Agent Grey is already awaiting for your presence."

"So eager to get rid of me so fast?" Evelyn playfully jests.

She gracefully rises to stand using only the muscles in her legs and then pats down her white, flow-y sundress. She trots over to the nightstand by her bedside and snatches up her emergency satchel that she has prepared specifically for occasions like this. Strapping the bag across her chest, she slips into a pair of black flats and spins around to face Phil.

"Do you have everything you need?" he inquires.

"Yep."

"iPod?"

She nods.

"Cell phone?"

She nods.

"Meditation mat?"

She nods.

"Ballet shoes?"

She nods.

"Leotard?"

She nods.

"Change of clothes?"

She shakes her head and grins a toothy smile. "All expenses paid credit card."

"Naturally."

"Hey, hey, if you're going to be keeping me here for an indeterminable amount of time, I might as well make the best of it," she replies cheekily, winking at her handler before she passes him as she leaves her room and waits for him out in the hallway. "You gave me this credit card to use with as I please, and I shall do what is expected of me and buy new shoes."

"Because you don't have enough as it is," he responds, monotone.

"It's not my fault boots are in season," she scoffs. She loves boots: knee-high, leather, wedges, velvet, the list goes on; they go with everything!

Phil leads her through a series of hallways (ones that she stopped trying to navigate through or memorize). The head quarters of S.H.E.I.L.D is large in size, and while Evelyn is stationed at one part of the facility that is a little heaver on the security detail, Sam and his charge, Steve, are at the other side where S.H.I.E.L.D houses its agents in a little mock town, hence why Evelyn has to bring a change of clothes (or her credit card) because she can't go back to her room without Phil and authorization (unless she wants to be sedated again because she isn't under watch).

"So how long are you going to be gone for this time?" she asks.

"I don't know, depends on the situation."

"Always does," she drawls. "When do you think I'll be ready for field duty so I can go with you to these secret, secret mission thingies?"

Phil raises a brow at her. "Do you want me to answer that question honestly?"

She frowns, shoulders slumping in dejection. "Guess not." Probably doesn't help her that she calls top secret assignments: 'secret, secret mission thingies'. She's just bored being in her room all day, everyday while she knows that Phil is doing something awesome somewhere in the world.

"You'll get there, in time."

"With Maria as my only hope for clearance? I doubt it," she mutters.

"I have faith in you, Evelyn. You'll make a fine field agent one day."

"_Aww_, Phil!" Evelyn gushes, throwing her arms around her favorite handler, she squeezes and leans her head against his shoulder. "You're a big softy underneath all that bad-ass secret agent getup, aren't you?"

"Tell anyone and I'll have to kill you."

Evelyn chortles. "Your secret is safe with me." She sighs ruefully. "It's too bad you have a girlfriend now. I was totally working up the courage to ask you out." She snaps her fingers, muttering a, "Damn."

Phil chuckles. "Sorry, Evelyn, but I don't date charges."

"Well there goes all my hopes and dreams for our future. I already had our kids names picked out and everything; and where we were going to have our wedding: in a beautiful meadow on a cool summer's day..."

"My mother wants me to marry in a church," he intervenes.

Evelyn snorts. "Screw your mother, it's my imaginary wedding- not hers." Phil pats her hand affectionately.

Soon, much to Evelyn's dismay, she and Phil come up to Sam and Steve's apartment. It's not like she doesn't like Sam or the new arrival to S.H.I.E.L.D, Steve, she just doesn't like being passed around like some child needing a babysitter.

Phil knocks on the door. "You'll behave for Agent Grey, right?"

"Yes, dad," Evelyn grumbles, kicking her feet at the ground.

The apartment door opens, Sam smiles in greeting, and Evelyn puts on a brave face.

"Hi, Sam," she addresses cheerfully.

"Hey, Evie."

Evelyn darts past Sam, entering the apartment without further invitation, leaving Phil and Sam to discuss whatever it is they talk about whenever Phil drops her off. She kicks off her shoes and tosses her satchel carelessly on the couch.

"Is Steve up yet or is he still depressed that S.H.I.E.L.D unfroze him?" she calls out. However, Sam isn't the one to answer.

"Steve is not depressed, and he would like it very much if you could please stop referring to him as if he isn't in the same room with you."

"Sorry, Steve, I didn't see you there," Evelyn apologizes sheepishly. She turns to see Steve seated on the couch where she had just thrown her satchel unintentionally across his lap. She plops down on the couch beside him, curling her feet underneath her bottom and propping her elbow up on the backrest so that she can hold up her head with the palm of her hand. "So, how is your transition to modern time? Wanna come shopping with me for shoes?" She softly probes his rather large – and impressive – bicep. "I'll buy you something," she tries to sweeten the deal.

"No thank you, but I appreciate that you asked. Thank you, Miss Addams."

Evelyn's nose scrunches. "Please don't call me that, it reminds me of my mother. Call me Evie, or if you have to be gentlemanly about it, Evelyn."

"I'm sorry. And, will do, Evelyn."

Evelyn shrugs, preferring to be called, Evie, but hey, it's a start. She just met him a few weeks ago.

According to Steve, he recently woke up from a cryogenic slumber, and the only reason he is alive is because of the Super Soldier Serum he was injected with back in the 1940s that was developed by a scientist Abraham Erskine, plus with the help of one Howard Stark (much to Evelyn's giddiness, but whenever she tries to ask about Tony's father, Steve changes the subject); makes him stronger than the average human. He stayed deep within HQ at first – ironically where Evelyn is stationed – under surveillance until he was given the okay by Nick to move to the mock town to try and blend in with today's society with Sam as his handler.

"You're going to have to leave this apartment some day you know."

"I realize that."

"Do you? Do you really, Steven?" Steve casts her an exasperated glance. She smiles.

"I prefer Steve."

"And I prefer Evie."

"But you said–"

"I know what I said. I was trying to be nice and make you feel comfortable."

"Are you always this wired?"

She beams, eagerly nodding. "Basically. It keeps the" —her smile morphs into a frown, she stares off into the distance as her eyes are sure to have glazed over— "dark away."

"What dark?" Steve's tone holds intrigue. It's the first time he has shown interest in her story of being with S.H.I.E.L.D.

Evelyn blinks, realizing that he leaned in closer. She forces a smile onto her lips. "Nothing."

The front door closes shut, signaling that Phil and Sam are done with their conversation, and Sam announces, "All right, Evie, time to study."

"Aw, what?" she groans. "Why?"

"You have your assessment with Agent Hill at four, that's why. Times a-ticking."

"But I thought that we could go shopping today."

"Yeah, well you thought wrong. This is for your own good, Evie. Hey, maybe today's the day you finally graduate." Oh, that's right, Evelyn almost forgot that Sam isn't of clearance yet, so they told him that she is simply studying to become a field agent much like himself, not learning how to suppress a demonic spirit that has the potential to wreck havoc throughout the world.

"Fine," she mutters. "I'll study. Maybe after you can take me and Steve into town?"

"I told you that I don't want to go into town today, Evie," Steve declares.

"Yeah, well you're going to have to because we're not allowed to separate," she retorts.

"Sorry, Evie, but if Steve doesn't want to go, I have to respect his wishes. No shopping today," Sam genuinely apologies.

Evelyn clenches her jaw, and a tick subconsciously jerks her hand. She can feel the anger bubble underneath the surface of her skin, creeping along her body in tingles. All she wanted to do was go shopping and let off some steam. She hasn't been outside in days: hasn't seen the sun, hasn't felt the wind blow against her face and through her hair. THIS ISN'T FAIR! WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO SUFFER BECAUSE STEVE DOESN'T WANT—

"I have to study," she proclaims, quickly shuffling off to her temporary room that she has only used a few times before. She slams the door shut behind her and immediately drops to the floor, feeling the plush carpet beneath her bare thighs which offers her little comfort.

Breathing in and out, slow and steady, she calms her pounding heart and rigid muscles by thinking peaceful thoughts: _River Flows In You_, by the pianist Yiruma, plays in her mind from memory because she left her iPod out with her satchel and she has no desire to go and fetch it. Soon, she is in her "happy" place; well, the place between sleep and wake where she has to build up her defenses against Drusilla: the room of darkness. Black and vast, seemingly endless in size. A dense and chilling fog clouds from her knees, down. The first time she was here, she was being constricted by a black vines controlled by Drusilla and subconsciously nearly crashed Tony's jet which then set off a series of unfortunate events.

Evelyn stands in front of a lone doorway that appears to lead to nowhere, but she knows what it is – the only thing in the way of her having full control of her body without worry.

"Someone's has a short fuse today," Drusilla's voice muses, but the woman herself remains hidden within the shadows.

"I'm just nervous about my assessment, that's all," Evelyn replies, listless. She sighs, dropping to her knees. She really should apologize to Steve and Sam, they aren't at fault for her foul mood.

Concentrating, the outlines of an uncompleted brick wall slowly fades in and out before turning completely solid.

"Do you really want to be doing that?" Drusilla asks.

"I'm pretty sure I do," Evelyn chirps.

The demonic entity makes her presence known, standing on the other side of the open doorway. Evelyn can only see her graying legs and the end of her tattered charcoal colored dress, but she doesn't stop in her task of strengthening the seal and completing the brick wall.

"And what happens when you finally seal me in? Get your life back?" she snorts. "You and I both know that nothing waits for you beyond the walls of that organization. Do you actually think that they will let you go? You'll never be free. I am all you have and will ever have."

"That's not true."

"It isn't? Hm, because I believe that it is. Let's count, shall we? Your sister wants nothing to do with you; your so called love couldn't wait to move on to that redhead assistant of his as soon as you were locked up; and the people you consider friends are only with you because it is ordered of them."

Evelyn can't deny that Drusilla's words don't have some truth in them; the brick wall cracks and crumbles, loosing a few good inches. Well there goes a weeks worth of work.

"Ah, struck a cord didn't I?" Evelyn can practically hear the grin and triumph in Drusilla's tone. "I just want to point out, you did care for me once as a friend. You can do so again. I can give back your memories, they're right here with me. All you have to do is ask."

"Evie?" Sam's voice echos throughout the room of darkness. Evelyn peers up at the vast nothingness above her.

"I have to go," she tells Drusilla.

"And here I was just beginning to enjoy our little chat," the woman snorts. "By the way, I like the choice of music for today, it was quite soothing. And don't forget, my offer still stands. You know where to find me. I'll be waiting."

Drusilla backs away until her figure is lost in the fog. Evelyn frowns, gnawing her bottom lip. Is she actually considering the demon's offer? To have her memories back is a tempting offer, but at what cast? Her soul? Her body? No way.

"Evie?" Sam calls her once more. She sighs.

"Yes, Sam?" Evelyn opens her eyes and turns her gaze up to the former F.B.I agent. Her tone is awfully calm and serene for only being angry and irritated not minutes before.

"I thought you might want this." Sam gently places her satchel on the bed. "Are you all right?"

"Mm-hm." She nods, smiling.

"You're still Evie, right?" he asks cautiously.

Evelyn responds with an irritated expression. Is she irate that S.H.I.E.L.D is telling their lower rank agents that she has D.I.D (dissociative identity disorder or, in other usage, multiple personality disorder) like her step-father accused her of having? Yes. But does she have a say in voicing her sanity? No.

Sam grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Just checking."

"I know," she heavily exhales, "thank you for the concern." _At least someone genuinely seems to care_.

"Is there anything I can do for you to make up for not going into town?"

Evelyn immediately perks. "Can I go see if Clint is off duty today?"

"I don't know... Are you done with your studying?"

"...Yes?" An innocent smile spreads across her lips and she bats her eyelashes for added measure.

"Liar. All your studying materials are in the bag I just brought you."

Evelyn huffs. "Well, can we go to the training arena? That's a part of my studying."

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Evie, Steve doesn't want to go anywhere today, and he's my charge, too, you know."

"Can't you just ask him?"

"You can't force him to go anywhere, Evie. He's still effected by, well..." Sam's arms sweep out in front o him, but Evelyn knows what he is trying to imply. "You had time to get used to all of this way before he did. He still needs to adjust. Think about his feelings; don't push him."

"You're right. I'm sorry," Evelyn apologizes.

"It's not me you should be apologizing to."

Evelyn groans. "Yeah, you're right about that, too," she mumbles. "Is he still on the couch?"

Sam shakes his head. "In the kitchen."

Evelyn sluggishly rises to her feet and basically trudges out of the room and to the kitchen. Despite knowing that she is in the wrong, she can't help but hold a little grudge on Steve (he never wants to go anywhere). But Sam is right, S.H.E.I.L.D and suddenly being thrust into the future is still fresh on him. He really is a nice guy; he's Captain America for Christ's sake! Stupid Drusilla for putting her in a bad mood and making her all conflicted.

Steve's large frame struggling to move around in the small kitchen without bumping into the table or counter is comical. It looks like he's trying to make himself a cup of coffee, but he can't quite figure out the espresso machine; Evelyn finds herself smiling.

"Need any help?" she decides to ask.

Steve briefly passes her a glance. "No thank you. Sam showed me how to use this once, I think I can figure out how it works again."

Evelyn sucks at her front teeth, feeling uncomfortable and guilty. "I just... I wanted to apologize for snapping at you earlier. Sometimes I just..." Wringing her fingers, Evelyn doesn't want to admit her "problem" nor use it as an excuse. "It doesn't work right," she says, tapping the side of her head. "I'm sure they probably briefed you on my..._condition_...before assigning Sam as my part time handler."

A look of concern etches onto Steve's handsome features. "Oh... No, I didn't know. Now I'm the one who should apologize."

"No, it's fine. It was all on me. I should know how to control it by now. Or at least, that's what Maria tells me," she lamely jokes.

"So, you have a handler, too?" he hesitates to ask, a small smile forming on his plump, pillow lips.

"Hey, Steve, wanna go to the training arena and have a few rounds?" Sam asks, entering the kitchen soon after Steve's question (possibly "classified" information or whatever). He was probably listening in, the eavesdropper, but he is excused because he knows Evelyn's desperation for movement (anything!).

"Yeah, I could use a bit of a work out."

"Oh, now you want to go somewhere?" Evelyn mutters under her breath. Sam gently jabs his elbow in her rib-cage, effectively silencing her. She smiles to cover up her rude comment.

"Why don't we get dressed for a sweat and then leave in five?" Sam clamps his hands together.

Steve maneuvers around Sam and Evelyn to get to his room, and when Evelyn doesn't make any motion to leave the kitchen, Sam raises an expectant brow.

"Evie?"

"Oh, I'm good."

"You didn't bring clothes again, did you?" he accuses.

"Nope." She grins. Sam sighs and rolls his eyes.

******[·]**

The journey to the training arena is quiet, Evelyn hums to herself and has a spring in her step, Sam is beside her with his hands comfortably placed in his workout pants, and Steve is on the opposite side of Sam with his shoulders hunched and his eyes dart side to side, inspecting every detail they pass with both wonder and anxiety. Evelyn can tell that he doesn't like to be out in the open like this, vulnerable; she feels guilty, again.

_I'll be sure to make him a nice homemade meal to make him feel better,_ she decides. She knows that Sam has a copy of one of Emily's cookbooks in the kitchen, she brought it with her on her last stay. Evelyn may not now how to cook spontaneous meals, but she can sure as hell follow directions.

Sam swipes his identification card along the keypad beside the entrance of the training arena, a chime beeps and the door unlocks. Evelyn is the one to giddily open the door, she loves to train in all sorts of activities: martial arts, shooting practice, and archery (courtesy of Clint); it is the ultimate distraction – she loves distractions (keeps her brain busy and Drusilla away).

Evelyn skips into the large warehouse like building, head snapping in all directions of the cut off sections. What should she do first?

At the sound of a soft 'thud', her gaze shifts over to the shooting range. Her eyes land on the familiar figure of one of her favorite S.H.I.E.L.D agents. She grins evilly when she sees that he just released an arrow and is loading another. She turns to face Sam and Steve, who are watching her with curious expressions, and she presses a finger to her lips, signaling for them to stay quiet. She tip-toes up to the archer and cups her hands around her mouth.

"HI CLINT!"

The arrow is released, zooming straight for the target placed at an impressive hundred meters away from the shooter. It fluidly hits it target: dead center, bulls-eye.

"Damn. One of these days I'm going to make you miss, even if it's by an inch," she promises.

"Heard you got shifted to Grey. I'm surprised you lasted this long," Clint responds, unaffected by Evelyn's rather noisy interruption (or attempt at one).

"Right? New record," she agrees arrogantly. "You know, I think you like to look super awesome and crap in front of everybody; we all know you can hit that target, it's too easy for you."

"Not for you it isn't." Clint passes off the bow to Evelyn. No, not _his_ bow – she isn't allowed to touch his personal bow. He actually doesn't train with it, ever. He only uses it on special occasions (like when shooting a bad guy in the face, or so Evelyn imagines he does). "I got her from here, Grey," he directs over his shoulder.

"She's not to leave my sight," Sam objects. It isn't the first time that Evelyn opts to stay in the company of Clint rather then the man she is originally assigned to. It's not her fault that the expert marksman is super sweet (and she means it in its other usage: aka he's freaking awesome times ten, rivaling Phil, which isn't easy!). Plus, he tells her about past missions of his (the ones that he can talk about) and explains how he gets out of sticky situations, she likes his stories.

"You're only going to be at the other side of the building, you can totally see me from the boxing section." Evelyn waves her hand at Sam dismissively, not even bothering to look at him as she does this. "Shoo, go play with Steve."

"Don't worry, Grey, I won't get her into too much trouble." Clint winks. Evelyn beams and giggles like an overly excited schoolgirl whose idol just made some lame pun but she has to support them anyway.

"You stay here. I don't want you leaving the building," Sam commands firmly to Evelyn, and then he eyes Clint much like a father feeling wary of leaving his daughter alone with a boy in her room would.

"Aye, aye, el cap-ee-ton." Evelyn mock salutes.

Meanwhile, Steve is snickering in the background; Sam turns to briefly glare at him, and Steve attempts to hold back a smile.

"Lets go to the weights first, buddy, I'll spot ya." Sam pats Steve's shoulder as he passes him. "We're leaving in an hour, Evelyn, an hour!" he shouts, walking off in the distance.

"You sure know how to push people's buttons," Steve remarks.

"Nah, only his." Evelyn shrugs.

"Well, I better go before that irritation is directed at me."

Evelyn snorts. "Like he can take you!" she teases loud enough for Sam to hear as Steve follows Sam. Steve laughs, but Sam is not amused.

"Ha-ha!" the former F.B.I agent mock laughs. "Your time just got cut down!" Evelyn clamps her mouth shut and pouts.

"I wonder why he doesn't like you," Evelyn voices her confusion.

"Beats me," Clint replies with a leisure and uncaring shrug.

Evelyn first met Clint back on her first night with S.H.I.E.L.D. She was placed in a much heavier security room than the one she is in now; it was a cell, they may tell her different, but she knows what it was. It was large and circular, the walls weren't really walls at all but clear and thick glass (bulletproof most likely). Cameras were stated all around, visible from all angles no matter which way she turned her head. Every so often someone would come in and check on her, write something down on a stupid clipboard, but none of them would speak with her.

She was scared and she couldn't sleep. She was curled up on her bed, her head rested against the cool glass, and her arms were wrapped around her knees.

"You all right down there? Need some water or something?"

The voice came out of nowhere, but Evelyn was thankful that someone broke the silence. She maneuvered herself so she was on her knees on her bed and her hands pressed against the glass, her head dipped and lifted, twisted and turned while trying to find the source of the voice, but she couldn't see anybody.

"Who's there? Where are you?"

He whistled. "Up here."

Evelyn craned her neck as high as it could go. A catwalk circled her "room" high above, it was dimly lit and hidden within the shadows, most of the light was pointed on her, kind of blinding her. She squinted and spotted a faint outline of a person leaning back against the wall with one leg dangling over the edge and the other propped up on the flooring with his arm draped across his knee.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Your name, I mean. What is it?"

"Hawkeye."

"Hawkeye? Really?" Evelyn questioned, tone thick with disbelief. "No way."

He didn't respond, and Evelyn felt the high of someone talking to her dissipate. She continued to stare at him but he was motionless. Her lips formed a frown and she slumped back against her bed and huffed.

"What's your name?" he asked after about a five minute silence.

"Don't you know it?" she muttered.

"Yes."

"Then why ask?"

"Because I thought that you might want to tell me."

"It's Evie."

"...Clint."

A smile slowly began to form on her lips. Clint talked and stayed with her until she fell asleep; he helped her through the difficulty of the first few nights by simply being there with her (even if most of the nights were spent in silence), his presence comforted her, and for that she is forever grateful to him.

"You're distracted," Clint states.

"I know," Evelyn grumbles, grip tightening on the bow. It's difficult to concentrate on hitting the target dead on AND to concentrate on keeping Drusilla's nagging voice of failure back (it takes time to fully give herself into the training session). "Sorry."

"Focus, Evie. Relax your shoulders... stare at your target... breathe in, hold it... exhale, slowly... and now – release."

Evelyn releases the bowstring, the arrow shoots at the target, but it doesn't go anywhere near the center of the human shaped wooden statue. The tip of the arrow embeds closer to the lower abdomen. She purses her lips.

"Better. Not great, but better. You immobilized your enemy, but they're still alive. Remember, you want to conserve your ammo, no matter which weapon you are using, so one shot for one target. Try again."

Evelyn nods. She arms the bow with another arrow and takes aim. Following Clint's earlier instructions, she releases the bowstring and the arrow lands a little closer to the chest. She smiles in accomplishment.

"What time is your assessment?" Clint asks, nonchalant.

"Four," she murmurs.

"Ready for it?"

Evelyn fiddles with the bow. "Think so... Hope so."

Another reason she likes Clint is because he has a higher clearance than Sam and knows the real reason why Evelyn is here with S.H.I.E.L.D, she can talk with him freely about Drusilla, and he offers some advice on how she can keep calm and her other emotions in check.

Clint doesn't say anything further and takes the bow from Evelyn's hands along with the quiver containing only two measly arrows left.

Evelyn raises a brow. "What; no words of encouragement? No: don't worry, Evie, you're going to do great?"

"Want me to lie to you?"

_Just like Phil. __All these agents think alike!_ Evelyn shakes her head.

"The world is a harsh place, Evie, and here you're going to be seeing a lot of reality. No lies; just brutal honesty. That is what you're going to have to get used to."

_And the main point to Maria's assessment,_ Evelyn can't help but add.

"You have the means, you'll get there eventually," Clint further comments. Evelyn nods in agreement. She does have reasons to get her life back on track.

"Go on, I'm pretty sure your time is up."

"All right, see you later." Evelyn waves. Clint simply nods once in return.

******[·]**

When Sam drops her off at the entrance where Evelyn is to take her assessment, he isn't allowed to go any further. And while she is staring at the metallic door with trepidation, she can feel his sympathetic gaze burning a hole at the side of her face. He places a hand on top of her shoulder.

"Good luck," he says.

"Mm-hm." She nods, licking her suddenly dry and chapped lips. Can nerves even do that so quickly?

"You're going to do great, Evie," Steve declares. Evelyn jumps, startled, because she forgot that the all American man is standing a little ways off behind her. "If negative, don't let the outcome get you down. Never give up on your dreams." He seems to be talking out of experience.

"Never give up. Never surrender," Evelyn quotes one of her most all time favorite movies: _Galaxy Quest_. Though it was meant to be a comedic movie, those words hold truth and inspiration. "Right. I can do this," she pumps herself up.

With one last encouraging pat, both men back up when Evelyn pushes the call button on the side of the door. The metallic entrance slides open, revealing a double set of metallic doors (so that no one can see what's inside). Evelyn steps in and turns around, offering a last fleeting wave and a weak smile to both Sam and Steve. Both smile in response. And the door slides closed, cutting Evelyn off from the outside world (again).

"Miss Addams." Maria's commanding and authoritative voices comes from behind Evelyn, making her entire body go rigid. The second-in-command (and Nick) are the only two people Evelyn has yet to sway in calling her Evie, or even the more formal, Evelyn, for that matter. It's all business with those two.

"Are you ready for your assessment?"

Evelyn nervously gulps and shakily nods (hint, hint: NO!). She slowly turns around to face Maria, and she is cautious when heading for the lone chair at the center of the otherwise empty room. Her gaze flickers over to the willowy redhead standing off towards the side, poised and ready for action in case Evelyn slips. Agent Natasha Romanoff. Evelyn has only met her once before, at her first assessment; Maria is adamant that the highly skilled agent is the only one who can take on Evelyn if she looses control to Drusilla (well, enough for her to get close enough to inject Evelyn with that stupid sedative). She succeeded once before.

Clint said that he knows her and he said that she's a good agent, but other than that he doesn't further elaborate on the redhead. Much like Clint, Natasha doesn't really speak unless absolutely necessary (though Evelyn has yet to even attempt to speak with her).

When Evelyn sits, Maria circles her and inspects her with extreme scrutiny. Evelyn shrinks down in her seat (probably deducting points or however Maria scores the examination). Who cares, really? All she has to do for now is suppress Drusilla and her powers.

There are four stages that Evelyn has to pass before she can progress further into her training to become a field agent; the main goal is to maintain a calm exterior. Stage one is to get past annoyance (which is easy): it's the stupidly pissed off stage where you are irritated by a normal occurrence (like Steve not wanting to go to shopping, for example) but you are still rational enough to realize that even though it is bothersome it isn't that big of a deal and if you act upon the annoyance, you come off like a deranged lunatic; stage two (which is a little more difficult but almost doable) is to get past frustration: the stage where you are brimming with anger and are just one more trigger away from being infuriated, which is also stage three (which Evelyn has yet to even pass stage two without letting her powers slip); stage three is to _still_ remain in control past fury, which is the stage where you have the right to be angry but can't do a lick about it or else there will be dire consequences; and finally, stage four is basically the stage where your brand new puppy just got shot right in front of your very eyes along with your grandmother and everyone in your family, on your birthday, but instead of breaking every bone in the murderer's body, you have to keep cool and follow the law/rules.

After a twenty minute long scrutiny filled with a tense silence, Maria turns away from Evelyn. Evelyn releases a sigh of relief. Stage one: pass. But she immediately goes stiff again when the thought of stage two crosses her mind; she doesn't like stage two.

_I have to do this. I _can_ do this_. She nods to herself and then forces her gaze to direct up towards the second-in-command.

"Let's check in on your sister, shall we?" Maria questions lightly. Evelyn successfully holds back her grimace. She doesn't know when, she doesn't know how, but somehow S.H.I.E.L.D managed to place hidden cameras and listening devices throughout Emily's house. Sure they don't listen in on them all the time, only when it is time for Evelyn's assessment (as far as she knows), but it's still an invasion of privacy and Evelyn feels bad for her baby sister.

A series of different camera angles of Emily's house spread across the large white wall which doubles as a monitor in front of Evelyn. Her leg nervously bounces, but she is calm and she is in control. Maria zones in on just one camera shot which is facing the backyard. Evelyn sits erect in her seat at the sight of her sister and Richard playing tag with both Danny and Samantha. A small smile dotes Evelyn's lips, she's happy to see her family so at ease.

"Look at them" —Maria begins, and the smile falls off Evelyn's face— "so joyful and full of life. It's like you don't even matter to them; they're perfectly content without you. "Aunt Evelyn, who?" your niece probably responds whenever your name is mentioned."

Maria bends over next to Evelyn as not to obstruct her view of the happy scene. "Now how does that make you feel? That you are so insignificant in your own family's lives?" she breathes into Evelyn's ear. "That they have no clue where you are or even if you're alive, yet they carry on like you never existed."

"As long as they're happy and free from harm, I'm happy," Evelyn declares firmly, making sure that she is staring into Maria's eyes as she says this. "They're not safe if I were still with them. And their safety is all that matters to me."

Maria gazes intensely back at Evelyn, and then she nods once before she stands erect. She nodded once!

Stage two: pass.

A wide grin spreads across Evelyn's face. SHE DID IT! She got past stage two! She refrains from doing a happy dance in her seat.

"Stage three; you're making progress." Maria's tone holds light impression. Evelyn feels elation inflate her chest.

"All right then, lets see what we have next for you," Maria hums, acquiring the remote to the large wall monitor. "Ah, here we go."

Evelyn's brow furrows when a photo of Tony and two unknown women pops up on screen. They are seated at a booth in what looks like a club: Tony has his arms draped around both of the women shoulders, and he is leaning close to one and whispering something in her ear that is making her smile seductively. Maria flicks over to another photo and it is pretty much the same as the first except he is leaning over towards the other woman and he is, as it appears, to be nibbling on her earlobe.

"Why are you showing me old pictures of Tony?" Evelyn wonders.

"These photos were actually recently required as of," she feigns to check her watch, "last night. Ooh, I even think we have a video."

Evelyn chest sinks, forming a hollow sensation. Her eyes widen, glossy with unshed tears. _What...?_

Evelyn shakes her head in denial. "No that's... That has to be an old picture. He's dating Pepper." _Right? _she tries to convince herself. The video she sent him – surely he would have listened to it! How long ago did she send it again? Days; weeks; months?

"Is he?" Maria questions, hissing through her teeth. "'Cause it sure as heck doesn't look like it."

A video begins to play, loud music booms through the speakers but Maria tunes it down so that it is muffled but still distinguishable. Tony and the two women become animated, their laughter and giggles penetrate Evelyn's eardrums like a chisel to stone. She watches as Tony is, indeed, planting butterfly kisses along the neckline of the complete stranger before moving to the other woman and doing the exact same thing. He is rewarded for his action by the women each placing a hand on both of his inner-thighs, guiding upwards.

"It takes a professional to juggle two women like that," Maria comments. "I wonder how many times he has done this before, because it looks like he's had _a lot _of practice."

Tony removes his arm from around the woman on his right to focus fully on the woman to his left. With his now free hand, his fingertips trail up from the woman's knee to underneath the end of her dress.

"Turn it off, please..." Evelyn's voice comes out meek and pathetic, thick and watery as salty tears stream down her cheeks. Oh, is she crying? She didn't even notice until now.

Maria doesn't listen and she continues to add commentary to Tony's mannerisms: "He looks like he definitely has some skilled fingers, doesn't he? Of course you would know since–"

Clenching her hands against the ends of the chair, Evelyn doesn't realize that it is levitating. She screams, "TURN IT OFF!" The lights flicker, and static interrupts the video feed before it cuts off completely – the monitor splinters from the center, cracks spread out at all angles. "Ahh," she mewls lightly when a sharp object pricks the side of her neck. Her muscles begin to lax and a warm, calming sensation travels throughout her veins until it reaches her brain and the tips of her toes. An immediate haze clouds her mind, and her arms and legs go slack, her head listlessly falls to the side.

The chair's legs clatter back to the ground and the lights go steady.

Damn that Natasha is stealthy, Evelyn didn't even hear her stalk up from behind her.

**[Phil]**

"Was that really necessary? Did you have to be so harsh?" Phil inquires as soon as agent Hill exits the testing area. His gaze does not waver from the broken figure sitting on the chair, so motionless and drained.

His brief mission wasn't that difficult to handle and clear up, he was gone for a few hours tops. He just made it back in time to watch Evelyn's assessment. No wonder she hasn't passed it yet. He doesn't remember his assessment being that severe.

"She needs to learn how to remain in control during all situations. She only has two weaknesses, Agent Coulson, and that is her family and Stark," Maria replies.

"You're suppose to be helping her, give her advice, not break her spirit and her only two reasons for being here willingly."

"Are you growing soft, Agent Coulson, or are you simply getting too attached? Do I have to report this to Director Fury and arrange for an assignment change?"

"That won't be necessary, and you know it."

"I do, but do you?" she cleverly retorts.

"What the hell is this?" Director Fury demands, his loud voice echos and booms throughout the entire viewing area.

"Sir." Agent Hill immediately stands at attention upon seeing the director. "I wasn't expecting you to be watching."

"Of course I am, and always assume that I will be in the future," he barks. "That woman," he points at the hidden window viewing Evelyn, "is our main priority – _my_ main priority. Are you asking for her to snap and cause absolute chaos?" he seethes. Agent Hill's mouth opens and closes, struggling to find an answer. "Well, ARE YOU?"

"B-but, s-s-ir, this is the method we use for all our agents," she stammers and then regains strength in her tone.

"She's not a _God damn_ agent, Hill! She's a civilian with a _very_ powerful entity living inside of her that feeds off her insecurity and anger. Using her weaknesses against her to gain strength, I understand, but showing her that video of Stark? That is crossing the line. I don't care how you do it, I don't care how long it takes, and I don't care if you don't get a wink of sleep for the next week – _Fix. It_," he demands.

Rarely does Director Fury lose his temper to this volume, but Phil cannot help but agree with his commander that the process to mend Evelyn needs to be altered. At this rate, S.H.I.E.L.D isn't helping her, they're breaking her.

And what agent Hill can't see that Phil does, is that Evelyn does have an extreme amount of control over herself. If she doesn't, she wouldn't be simply sitting on the chair, motionless and fragile.

"If I don't see her smiling sunshine and shooting rainbows out of her ass by tomorrow morning, I'm holding you accountable, agent Hill, do you understand me?" The director points an authoritative finger at agent Hill's face.

"Yes, sir. I'll get right on it." Agent Hill nods, pulling a brave face.

"Coulson," the director snaps towards Phil.

"Yes, sir?"

"Get your charge out of here and do what you have to, to put her back in that little bubble of hers. I don't need a breakdown on my hands."

"On it."

**[Evelyn]**

Evelyn lets Phil guide her to where ever the hell he's taking her, she's too spaced out to know where she's going. Everything feels heavy, and everything looks blurry and like S.H.I.E.L.D has two of everything. Are they rich or something?

Blinking, she becomes aware that Phil is talking to her. "...Huh..?" she slurs, stumbling.

"We're almost there," he repeats.

"Kay." She nods.

Humming, she continues to sway and stumble with Phil as her only anchor, and if he has any complaints of having to heave her off of the ground from the many times she falls over, he isn't voicing them.

"What happened to her?"

"She just needs to rest. She'll be fine."

_Wha...? Who's that? Who's talking?_

"Evie, it's Sam. Can you hear me?"

Oh, did she say that out loud?

The next thing Evelyn knows, she falls back onto a fluffy bed, bouncing. She giggles and rolls over onto her side and balls into a fetal position. Almost immediately, her eyes close. A lone tear escapes captivity and slides down the side of her temple, getting lost somewhere within the warm sheets.

_Oh, Tony, what are you doing?_


	3. There's Something About Evelyn

**Season oƒ the Witch**  
_An Iron Man 2, Thor, and Avengers Fanfiction_

_Season oƒ the Witch © F0REVERM0RE _  
_Iron Man 2, Thor, and the Avengers © Marvel Studios_

* * *

**Chapter Three:**  
**_There's Something About Evelyn_**

Back in the space between sleep and wake, Evelyn floats a top the fog (which oddly is more dense than it was not a few hours ago); the sedative, it is clouding her mind and judgment. Ugh, she hates it. She can't do anything, she has no power, no command while in this haze.

_I guess good thing is- neither does Drusilla._

Eyes half-lid, hole in her heart, sickness in her belly, she floats. She waits and she floats, it is all she can do.

"I bet he tells all the hard ones to get that he loves them; loosens them up." Evelyn's heart contorts in her chest, a jolt of pure anguish tingles her entire body, down to the tips of her toes and the pads of her fingers.

With her eyes closed, she speaks out wetly, "Leave me alone, Drusilla." Evelyn is not in the mood to bicker with the entity (or anyone for that matter).

"I don't know," she muses. "It depends, have you considered my offer? I can take the pain awa_yyy_," she sings.

Evelyn's head lolls to the side where the lone standing door frame has appeared. Unlike her, Drusilla is standing on her two feet and she looks to be completely unaffected by the strong sedative Evelyn was injected with. Her thin, graying lips are upturned in an amused half-grin, her morion colored eyes glint with unspoken knowledge and power, and her dark, unruly hair cascades down to the length of her elbows, shielding most of her face and her tattered dress from further scrutiny.

If brave enough to really take a look, the dress is more of a gown. It's sleeves are long and tight before the material loosens and hangs free from her wrists and covers her hands, the bodice is snug and fitting with golden hooks at the front (much like a corset) revealing an ample amount of cleavage and a slim waist, and the skirt hangs off her hips and stops at her knees (but the hem is ripped and torn). The dress should be longer (Evelyn imagines that it once pooled beautifully at Drusilla's feet back when she was alive).

"How... How are you standing?" Evelyn asks, a furrow in her brow.

"I am afraid that that is a secret, my dear," Drusilla replies, tone light. A playful pout forms on her lips. "Friends only."

Evelyn turns her head to face up toward the black abyss above her in an attempt to simply ignore Drusilla for the time being.

"So, why no music? I rather liked that during your visits."

Evelyn frowns. "Can't think."

"Aw, all this time you've known about me, and you're still weak. So much power in such a pathetic little body, and you can't even use it." Drusilla scoffs. "I'll tell you what, how about _I_ play some music?"

The powerful, musical tones of _Time Is Running Out_ by the instrumental group, The Section Quartet, is ironic because: _She is getting stronger,_ Evelyn realizes, much to her horror, and she is running out of time before Drusilla forces control of her body.

"Damn right I am, Evelyn." Drusilla cackles. "But it would be much easier if you joined me now, relinquish your control, and I can make everything better. Why avoid the inevitable?"

Evelyn stubbornly refuses to listen.

"What do you really have out there, Evelyn? Your life revolved around the career you no longer have. And when was the last time you even danced? Now you're no more of a prisoner than I am. They are teaching you to try to keep me out, yet I grow stronger... Oh, will you look at that. How interesting."

_Don't look, don't look, don't look,_ Evelyn chants a mantra, _i__t's a trick_. However, despite her will to try, Evelyn's attention focuses on her peripheral. She gasps, head snapping in Drusilla's direction. "What the fuck?" she screeches. "How did that happen?"

The brick defense she was building to re-seal Drusilla has crumbled completely. Nothing is left.

"That was all you, Evelyn. Somewhere deep within your subconscious, you agree with me. You know I'm right. Take a look at yourself."

Evelyn raises her hands up in front of her face, puzzled. "What? What is it...? Oh." She blinks, wiggles her fingers, and then she peers down at her feet; she's standing, moving.

"I can assure you that, Mr. Stark, is back to his old self."

Gaze lifting back to the open doorway, Evelyn is surprised to see Phil's figure standing where Drusilla once was. "Phil?" she wonders, flabbergast.

The corner of Phil's lips twitches, almost forming a smile. "I can assure you that, Mr. Stark, is back to his old self," he repeats. "...I can assure you that, Mr. Stark, is back to his old self... I can assure you that, Mr. Stark, is back to his old self..." his voice echos, coming at her from all directions, penetrating her ears.

"...He knew..." she murmurs to herself, eyes wide, aghast. Phil knew about Tony the entire time and didn't tell her.

Eyes snapping open, brain on high alert though her body is still suffering the aftereffects of the sedative, Evelyn sluggishly struggles to crawl to the edge of the bed. Only one thing is on her mind, she has to do it, she has to ask, she has to know; she is determined. Limbs heavy, she staggers to stand on her feet and then spreads her arms out to steady herself. A numbing sensation pulsates at the center of her forehead, causing tunnel vision. The only thing she can hear is the sound of the eerily steady beating of her heart and her calm, shallow breathing. Dragging one foot in front of the other, propping most of her weight on passing objects, Evelyn makes it out of the bedroom door (which is open) and down the hall. Her fingers wrap around the edge of the kitchen's opening, and she hauls, panting.

Chairs scrape against the tile, cups clatter against saucers, and three pairs of eyes gaze at her with various hints of concern.

"Evie, I don't think you should..."

"You knew didn't you?" Evelyn interrupts Sam's remark of worry. She isn't staring at him, her gaze is set on her handler (someone she thought is her friend).

"_...__the people you consider friends are only with you because it is ordered of them."_ Evelyn shakes off Drusilla's observation of...truth?

"You knew about Tony, and you didn't tell me," she accuses. She silently pleads to Phil to respond with: no; no he didn't know. But he doesn't answer. He doesn't say anything, which means...

No longer feeling strength nor courage, Evelyn falls to the floor. Her face twists into one of absolute horror, but tears do not fall; she's in shock, she feels numb, used.

"_I bet he tells all the hard ones to get that he loves them; loosens them up."_ Could Drusilla be right?

_He never loved me_. Evelyn's mouth trembles, her shoulders shake, and she raises her right hand to curl tightly around the swan necklace that she thought was a symbol of durability, that their love could withstand everything just as it has survived her kidnapping and her runaway. _It was all a lie_. She softly closes her eyes as the realization dons on her. _I should have known. It was too good to be true_. He is too good for her: brilliant, successful, funny, handsome, the entire package. Why would he settle for her? She's nothing special (besides being the offering and current host of a powerful demonic spirit).

Arms wrap warmly around Evelyn's waist, the side of her face presses against a soft yet solid surface where buttons uncomfortably poke at her skin. She breathes in the familiar scent of expensive cologne that belongs to none other than agent Phil Coulson.

Her eyes finally open and she numbly notices a tea cup hover past her face (in the background, anything not bolted down to the ground is elevated, including herself and two people, other than Phil, whom are not suppose to know of her "special" abilities.)

"He lied to me, Phil. I'm just like all the others." Her tone is void of emotion, dead. "I didn't matter. I thought I mattered."

"On the contrary, Evelyn, you matter a great deal," he replies, sorrowfully, voice full of regret.

Evelyn can feel Phil fishing for an object in his pocket, and she knows what it is. When she feels a sharp prick at the side of her neck, she welcomes the darkness that comes with it. She's so tired of resisting against a losing battle. Drusilla is right: what is left to fight for? There's nothing for her anymore.

"Will you play music for me while I sleep?" she requests, barely on the cusps of consciousness.

"Of course."

**[Steve]**

Breakables shatter, and chairs clatter just as her eyes close and she falls limp in agent Coulson's arms. Steve can't help but, well, stare. The experience was both incredible and frightening (he was powerless to move, suspended in the air). Who knew that she could do that? Who knew that _anyone_ can do that?

_What is she?_ He wonders, in awe.

Not moments before she made her presence known, the kitchen was filled with comfortable conversation with a cup of coffee (that he finally learned to figure out how to use the espresso machine, again). Agent Coulson spoke of him with high regards that he is familiar with back in his day, and he is slightly embarrassed to admit that he misses it because it reminds him of home where everyone knew him and he isn't a secret being hidden by an unknown government organization.

While Sam is demanding to know what is going on with Evie, and what the hell just happened, agent Coulson adjusts the unconscious woman in his arms so he can fully stand without dropping her. Her arms fall limply from his hold, and a small object falls to floor with a soft clatter, unnoticeable by the two agents. Keeping a diligent eye on the conversing agents, he bends down on one knee and picks up the piece of jewelry without them knowing: a necklace in the shape of a swan with a large diamond at the center. Expensive from what he can tell. Simple and elegant, much like the woman who wears it (_was_ wearing it).

Steve's gaze flickers between the necklace and Evie. Her sorrowful voice plays through his mind, such pain caused by a man named, Tony; as in Tony Stark. Steve isn't as ignorant as everyone believes, he has been studying privately about modern life to help with his adjust, and the son of his old friend, Howard Stark, has been mentioned numerous times in the media; he isn't exactly shy about airing his dirty laundry for everyone to see: women, drinking, gambling. Steve finds it hard to believe that he is the son of Howard (though after he later discovered how his friend died while Tony was young, he understood somewhat). But for Evie to be one of the many women Stark has bedded, Steve is aghast. She seems so... not the kind of person to fall for a man like that. She's so sweet, bubbly, and kind (most of the time, when she wasn't pressuring him about venturing out of the apartment more).

To discover that she is as much of a hidden object within S.H.I.E.L.D as he is, and for much longer apparently, Steve is impressed. His respect for her grows. Here he is sulking in self pity for waking up in a place beyond his time, and the entire time she has somehow kept a smile on her face.

_I wonder what she has lost when she was brought here,_ he mulls, sympathetically.

"I guess we better clean up." Sam's sigh rouses Steve from his thoughts.

Agent Coulson is gone, as is Evie.

Peering down at the necklace still in his possession, Steve encloses his hands around it and then safely tucks the jewelry in his pocket. He'll return it to her when she comes back.

**[Evelyn]**

"Wake up, it's time to have some fun."

Licking her dry, chapped lips, Evelyn finds herself with a serious case of cotton mouth. She groans when she turns her head, her back and neck aches, creaks, and pops. A burning sensation erupts at her temples as something tugs uncomfortably and stretches out her oddly sensitive flesh.

True to Phil's words, the calming tune of _Pavanorama,_ by the, Deviations Project, relaxes her tense shoulders.

Blearily opening her eyes, she sees the curved glass walls, blurry shapes of monitors, and hand rails attached to the side of her gurney. Great, she's on heavy surveillance again (not that she should be surprised).

_What time is it?_ she wonders. How long has she been asleep? She didn't have too bad of an episode, not like the others. She was in control, just unresponsive due to shock.

Raising her hand to massage her temples and rid of the intense migraine, Evelyn sharply gasps and flinches when instead of touching skin she painfully bumps against a cold object sticking out of her head. Upon further inspection: running the pads of her fingers tentatively around the thin, needle like device that is connected to a wire, she hisses at how sensitive the skin around the source is.

_They never did that before,_ she states, worried. Needles in her head? What happened?

Evelyn tries to sit up, but the wires connected to her head aren't long in length, and she screams out in pain. It burns! Desperate to relieve herself of the self-inflicted torture (since she can't seem to bring herself to stop thrashing), she harshly yanks out the needles in handfuls; the pain is brief, but at least it is slowly dissipating, leaving behind only a dull, pulsating sensation.

She falls off of the gurney, taking the IV pole down with her that she has yet to remove the tube from her inner-elbow. She yanks herself free of it, too.

Blood trickles from the small wounds, staining the paper gown and making her hair stick to the sides of her face.

Staggering to the glass wall, she bangs an open palm against it to call for attention. "Hello?" Someone has to be watching her. Someone is always watching her.

She squints to try and steady her vision, she doesn't have her glasses nor her contacts. The door (that doubles as both the entrance and the exit) slides open, and Nick struts in with his hands placed behind his back. His expression is hard, and he is gazing at Evelyn with extreme scrutiny that subconsciously makes her take a step back.

"You're awake," he utters.

"How long was I out for this time?" she asks, hesitant. This is her fourth drug induced coma, and the disappointment is rolling off the director of S.H.I.E.L.D in waves. She should have gotten at least a little better by now. So weak and pathetic.

"Eight weeks."

"You put me under for that long? Why?" she gawks, appalled. "It wasn't that bad! I was still in control!"

Nick doesn't respond, and his silence is making Evelyn squeamish.

"You weren't suppose to wake up."

"What?"

"You were not suppose to wake up." He doesn't even falter to say it again. Evelyn is horrified.

"You were never going to wake me up," she proclaims, just above a whisper.

"No."

Her eyes sting with upcoming tears. "But... Why?"

"Drusilla is getting stronger. A risk we couldn't afford to take by letting you stay awake," he replies, calmly. Evelyn, in sheer disbelief, slinks to the floor and stares off into nothingness. "She has developed an immunity to our current sedatives. We tried to up the dosage, but nothing worked. Drug induced comas to stabilize you is no longer an option."

"That could have killed me," she declares, shaking her head, flabbergasted by his admittance. What if she had died from an overdose?

"You have to understand, Evelyn, that every precaution we take to contain Drusilla is for the good of the many. You are a danger not only to the world, but to yourself as well. We are only trying to protect..."

"Me, I know," she sighs.

"...the innocent," he concludes. Evelyn goes rigid; he wasn't going to say her at all. Of course the safety of humanity is more important than the preservation of her life.

"So what now?" She tries to hold back her sneer.

"We haven't figured that out yet."

Evelyn's jaw clenches.

"I'll arrange for a shower and change of clothes."

Nick departs, leaving Evelyn alone to her thoughts and doubts. Drusilla's offer is getting more and more tempting. Evelyn's hope, her will, is dwindling. But is she willing to risk the safety of others for her own personal satisfaction?

**[Clint]**

He makes sure to add unnecessary weight to his steps so that she can hear him coming. As soon as he heard that she woke up from what was suppose to be an unshakable slumber, he feigned having another issue to deal with so he could have an excuse to stop training with Natasha and go see her. When he heard that Evelyn was to be put in a permanent coma, he didn't exactly agree with it, but he kept his mouth shut because he had no say in the matter.

She looks worse for ware: patches of her hair is missing from when they shaved it clean to make room for the needles they needed to monitor her brainwaves, the rest is stringy and is in a desperate need of wash, she looks thin and frail from a lack of a decent meal (that doesn't come from a clear bag and is fed through a thin, plastic tube), dry blood stains the side of her face and trails down her neck, and the expression on her face is non-existent.

She turns her head, barely sparing him an uncaring glance before looking away and moving back into the position he found her in. She's just sitting there, shoulders slumped and her legs sprawled. This is not her. This is not the Evie that he has gotten to know. This is a woman defeated, lost, and alone. He hides his anger expertly, but he doesn't like seeing her this way.

What have they done to her?

Was her assessment that bad?

What did she see?

What did they show her?

With his schedule clear, Clint makes himself comfortable on the catwalk that overlooks her – his hands subconsciously clench – cell, in a familiar position.

Before when he first watched over her, she was a freshly captured anomaly that he knew nothing about and was cautious around. However, now that he knows her character and finds no real threat, he thinks that she does not belong in this section of HQ. And she should not be in this condition.

"Want to tell me about it?" He hopes that maybe some light conversation (no matter how forced on his behalf) may liven her up a little (it worked the last time).

"...I'm losing, Clint," she croaks, weakly. He waits for her to continue, but she doesn't say anymore.

His keen eyes sharply gaze down at her sullen form, and every muscle in his body coils at her coded, feeble plea for help. Springing up, he strides out of the room in determination.

**[Nick]**

Nick stares at his main priority from through the many cameras that are trained on her person. She is the first of her kind of...talent...that S.H.I.E.L.D has come across, and they have no idea how to handle her, or what to do with her. All Nick knows is that he has been ordered to keep her alive at all costs; she has a power within her that can be useful to them if they can learn how to control it.

They only have one problem: What happens when all the weaknesses are gone? The cryptic warning still has HQ on high alert. How Drusilla managed to send the message from through the monitors meant to watch Evelyn's brainwaves is baffling and disconcerting. That is what made Nick's decision to put Evelyn on permanent sedation so that they can bide for time to figure out their next move, but apparently it was a fruitless command, it only furthered her immune process. (Probably what Drusilla wanted in the first place.)

With Evelyn being awake, time is running out. Her meek statement of 'losing' is barely captured by the audio feed. They are one weakness down: Tony Stark.

"She thinks that he never loved her," Phil remarks from beside him.

"When in fact it is the exact opposite: he loves her too much. He's acting like a fool with that damn suit of his to get our attention. He wants us to come after him in chance of seeing her again."

"Should we tell her? It may spark hope and give her an edge."

"May, agent Coulson, _may_."

"Sir, theories are all we have left. We've never dealt with a situation like, Evelyn, before."

Nick shifts is gaze to the agent beside him without turning his head. Though Phil hides his emotions well, Nick can see the tightness in his agent's jaw and the glint in his eyes when his full attention is on the motionless figure in Cell B. And with Barton unnecessarily checking in on Evelyn, as well, that makes two of his best agents compromised.

Well, three; his second-in-command has been struggling with her own demons for blaming herself for Evelyn's current state, and it has lowered her efficacy rate by at least twelve percent. Maria was only following protocol, doing the job he gave her. Though the assessment did set back Evelyn's progress, it isn't entirely Maria's fault.

However, Nick knows that his agents cannot help the need to shelter and protect the former ballet dancer; there is simply an aura about Evelyn that screams it. She isn't the one to blame for the reason why she is in the state she is in, it is her mother's. How someone so greedy for fame and fortune gave birth to a beacon of rays of sunshine like Evelyn is beyond anyone's guess. If anything, Evelyn should have garnered _some_ mannerisms from her mother. But she didn't—she bared the world with a bright smile on her face.

So that makes four people compromised by the eldest Addams, including himself. Son of a bitch.

The door to the observation room opens, and the distinctive voice of Barton inquires, "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted," Nick replies.

"We have to do something."

"I know, we heard."

**[Maria]**

She watches in the background, hands behind her back so that no one can see how white her knuckles burn as her nails dig into the soft flesh of her palm. Director Fury and agents Coulson and Barton are blatantly ignoring her presence; she knows what they're thinking: this is all her fault, she pushed too hard.

"Agent Hill," Director Fury calls her.

"Sir." Maria stands at attention.

"Arrange a small security detail of no more than three to take, Miss Addams, to the washing facility." So, what, she's on bathing duty now? Maria holds back a huff.

"Yes, sir." She nods, curtly. Whatever it takes to redeem herself.

Stepping out of the observation room with her head held high, Maria collects three other agents to travel with her to Cell B, with her in the lead.

The sight of the beaten down woman in person rather than on a monitor causes for a twinge of guilt to tug at her chest, but Maria shakes it off. She'll find a way to fix her error.

Clearing her throat when Miss Addams doesn't acknowledge her presence, Maria announces, "Miss Addams, I'm here to escort you to your shower. You know the pr..." —Maria bites down on her tongue; she hasn't been able to say the word 'Protocol' since the day of Miss Addams' last assessment— "stand at the center of the cell."

Miss Addams fluidly rises with such effortless grace that Maria blinks in surprise. And when Miss Addams steps towards the center of the cell, using the tips of her toes first and then walking on the flat of her feet, it almost brings tears to Maria's eyes. Now, she has never seen Miss Addams dance before (the fact that she was a ballet dancer is just a mark on her file to her), but if a simple stroll a few feet to where she commanded the woman to stand can hold such obvious pain and misery with each step, imagine if Maria had actually gone to see her preform.

_She_ caused that pain and suffering.

"Agent Hill?"

"Huh?" Maria blinks away the wetness in her eyes.

"I asked if we should open the door," the agent on her left, an agent Smith, she believes his name is, repeats.

Maria clears her throat. "Yes."

Shifting her gaze back to Miss Addams, Maria immediately breaks eye contact when she notices that Miss Addams is staring back at her with her head tilted and a bewildered furrow in her brow.

The glass splits at the middle, parting ways to make room for Miss Addams to step through. The three agents Maria assigned to this duty surround her, encasing her at the middle. Maria takes her place in the front to lead.

"You think it's your fault, don't you?" Miss Addams' question breaks the tense silence, her voice is eloquent and calm, much like a musical note.

Maria doesn't respond, she squares her shoulders to brave the inner-storm brewing in the pits of her belly.

"It's not; it's mine. I should have known that a guy like Tony could never love someone like me. It's probably why his attention always kept veering back towards Pepper. I was his last conquest, and she is the prize."

Maria briefly considers telling Miss Addams about why Mr. Stark has gone back to his old ways (to hide his grief of losing her), but her mouth refuses to open, suddenly it turns dry. Instead, she inserts the code to open the wash area and then steps aside to let Miss Addams enter first.

The wash area is otherwise known as a public bath, there is no privacy here since is meant to be used by prisoners from the cells. There are hidden cameras, a lock down emergency button, and guards.

While the two male agents on duty turn their backs, Maria and the other female agent watch Miss Addams diligently.

Miss Addams' first approach is the mirror. She stares at her reflection silently for a few moments before she raises her hand and brushes the tips of her finger along the shaved areas at her temple, down the thin trails of dry blood, and then finally rests on top of the porcelain sink. Her gaze does not waver from the reflection of her eyes.

A stoic expression hardens Miss Addams' delicate features. She squares her shoulders, and stands erect.

Maria reaches for the gun holstered at her side, cautious and on high alert.

"I won't go down like this," Miss Addams declares with dedication. "Lots of women are used by men, but then they bounce back. Why should I be any different?" Her hands clench at her sides. "And if I keep slipping like this, no one will..." Miss Addams sharply twists around to face Maria, her jaw is set. "You were right. I can't keep letting my emotions affect my judgments. I should be able to stay in complete control regardless if my sister hates me, because as long as she is safe I don't care, or the fact that Tony is a womanizing ass-wipe."

A beaming smile, filled with perfectly straight and blindingly white teeth renders Maria dumbfound.

"So, did I pass stage three, agent Hill?"

"Miss Addams, you far surpassed stage three and went beyond stage four." Maria is absolutely astounded, a fleeting smile twitches at the corners of her lips. She nods in awe at the woman before her. Miss Addams takes her by surprise; she's stronger than Maria ever gave her credit for. No, scratch that, that _anyone_ within S.H.I.E.L.D ever gave her credit for. _She will make a fine agent one day._ With lots of patience and practice of course, but a good agent nonetheless.

The aura around Miss Addams changes drastically; the air that was once so heavy and tense that Maria's shoulders literally slumped as if they had the weight of the world on them, lifts and is replaced with a much lighter and positive energy.

Miss Addams squeals in happiness and darts towards Maria, embracing her both warmly and tightly. "Thank you, Maria!" she exclaims, gleeful.

Maria doesn't know how to respond. She never received that kind of praise from someone before. It's rather...nice.

Miss Addams... no, Evelyn (she deserves it)... undresses unabashedly in front of the present company and hops into the shower, humming a familiar tune that Maria can't quite place.

The entire time Evelyn is cleaning up, Maria tries (and sometimes fails) to contain a small smile. There is just something about Evelyn Addams.

* * *

**(A/N) Author's Note:** If you think anyone out of character in this chapter (or future) please tell me so that I can try to fix it!


	4. Operation: Seduce Evelyn

**Season oƒ the Witch**  
_An Iron Man 2, Thor, and Avengers Fanfiction_

_Season oƒ the Witch © F0REVERM0RE _  
_Iron Man 2, Thor, and the Avengers © Marvel Studios_

* * *

**Chapter Four:  
_Operation: Seduce Evelyn_**

"What happens when all the weaknesses are gone?"

"We give her a new one."

* * *

Heading into the training arena for her scheduled combat training with Clint, Evelyn sees that the vast warehouse is empty. Weird, the expert marksman is a stickler for punctuality; he's always on time or arrives early.

She's not suppose to be alone. Her nerves tingle, her palms get clammy, and she shuffles on both feet. Since she woke up from her coma, she hasn't had a moment to herself, whether S.H.I.E.L.D is watching her through cameras, guards, or Phil or Sam. Anyone wanting time with her has to go through Maria, the second-in-command prearranges Evelyn's days.

So where is Clint? Is he held up? Dead?

What if someone discovers her on her own? Would she get in trouble? Punished possibly? It isn't her fault!

Damn it, and she is doing so good, too. On her best behavior because she really wants to prove herself to S.H.I.E.L.D that she isn't some fragile doll whom needs to be coddled or else she'll snap and crazy murder everyone.

The light scuffle of shoes against the soft matting lining the floor alerts Evelyn to a newcomer. Thinking that it is Clint, Evelyn spins around to face him with a scowl and the intention to scold him severely for being late. She blinks, realizing that it isn't her favorite archer. Staring back at her are eyes of deep, smoked topaz.

"Hello." A voice to match his face: strong, masculine, articulate.

He's tall (taller than Evelyn's five-foot-five frame, at least), has a broad chest and shoulders, well defined muscles stretch the material of his gray short-sleeved t-shirt, and his hair is neatly parted on the right and combed to the side.

_No one should look that good in work out clothes,_ Evelyn can't help but feel inadequate in this man's presence. He's so neatly groomed, and here she is: just woke up, has no makeup on, she lazily finger combed her hair into a loose ponytail, and she threw on a baggy shirt and day old yoga pants. Wait. Did she put on a bra? After a quick grope, much to her horror, she is not wearing a bra.

"Hello." Though she draws out the 'o', making her greeting come out more as a question. "I haven't seen you here before."

A wide, boyish grin amplifies this man's features so much that Evelyn has to refrain herself from drooling and gazing at him with admiration.

"I just got clearance," he responds, proudly.

"Clearance?" Evelyn wonders with a furrow in her brow. People need clearance to get in here?

"This arena is reserved for Level 6 agents and up."

"Oh. I didn't know that." She's just been coming to the arena on whim (with a little begging on her part) or request.

"You must be Evelyn." He extends a hand. "I'm agent Ward, but you can call me Grant."

Evelyn shakes Grant's hand, hoping that he doesn't notice how sweaty her palms are. "Evie."

"I'm here in place of agent Barton, he's on assignment."

"Oh," Evelyn, again, dumbly replies.

When she realizes that she is still shaking his hand, she sharply pulls back and rubs her clammy hand against the side of her pants to dry it.

"All right," clasping his hands together, Grant says, "we'll begin with some simple warm-ups before going into the motions of basic defense."

Evelyn nods, shaking off her nerves. "Okay."

Every nerve in her body bursts into overdrive, and a familiar tingle embarrassingly causes her to wiggle and tighten her thighs because—Grant took off his shirt. He. Took. Off. His. Shirt. (And if Evelyn could wolf whistle on command, she would do so right now.) His skin is taut, firm, smooth and hairless. Does he wax or shave?

Regardless, Evelyn just wants to reach out and touch his impressive and well sculpted breasts and then squeeze his biceps.

When is the last time she had sex again?

"...ready?"

Blinking, it dons on Evelyn that the entire time she has been gawking at this in-living-flesh Adonis, he has been talking. "Uh... What? C-can you repeat that?" she stupidly stammers. "You distracted me with all..." she unabashedly gestures to his unclothed chest "...that."

Grant, in response, drops his chin to quickly gaze down at his chest before raising an amused brow at Evelyn.

"Is taking off your shirt a requirement? Because if so, just a heads up, I did not put on a bra this morning," she jests, trying to defuse her own discomfort.

Chuckling, Grant shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. We'll work up to that." He winks. Evelyn tenses.

First, they begin with squat thrusts, then push ups, sit ups, pull ups, and all kinds of ups that leave Evelyn's muscles burning and aching in pain. It's been awhile since she last worked out this much; it use to be an everyday routine to keep in shape for performances, but she's been slacking because, well, she's no longer dancing.

A pang of guilt mixed with longing causes a sinking sensation to pool within her chest. She misses it, but her performing days are in the past now.

Despite her slight exhaustion, Evelyn powers through the remaining amount of time she has left for physical training. Grant isn't going easy on her, and she finds that refreshing. He's pushing her to her limits and beyond (she's going to be hurting in the morning).

Does he know about her? Or is he left in the dark much like Sam was? What level is Sam in anyway? On more person to keep a secret from, Evelyn guesses.

"We'll take this up again tomorrow. Maybe put on something a little more" —he clears his throat, eyes sweeping over Evelyn's current clothes— "fitting. Easier to move in."

"Tomorrow?" Evelyn questions, bewildered.

Grant nods. "I'll be taking over your training for the foreseeable future."

Evelyn unknowingly takes a step away from Grant, her head lightly shaking with disbelief. "But what about Clint? Won't he be coming back?"

"I explained to you, he's on assignment."

"Yes, but what happens when he gets back?" she snaps in defense. She hardly gets to see her friend as it is, and she finds Clint's presence comforting.

The pensive expression Grant replies with gives Evelyn her answer. She isn't going to have Clint as her trainer anymore.

"But why?" she asks, almost tearfully. "What did I do wrong?" And how can she fix it. "Am I not doing well?" Grant doesn't answer her. She just wants to shout: TELL ME!

"Everything all right here?"

Sam deliberately steps around Evelyn, blocking Grant from her sight.

"Fine, Sam," Evelyn mutters.

"Why don't you have a shirt on?" Sam directs to Grant, ignoring Evelyn's response.

All of a sudden, as if now in the presence of another man, Grant's face visibly reddens. He bends low to pick up his discarded shirt. Evelyn shamelessly watches, and Sam nudges her side.

"What?" she utters up at him.

Sam purses his lips in disapproval. "Do I have to tell you?"

"He's the one that's bending over," Evelyn snorts.

"I got her from here." Sam waves off Grant.

"I have my orders, sir, I'm to take her back to her room," Grant denies Sam.

"And I said that I'll take her," Sam responds with a stern edge in his tone.

Evelyn's gaze keeps switching back and forth between the almost bickering men, wondering who will win. Sam isn't budging, and neither is Grant.

Stupidly, Evelyn raises her hand listlessly in the air like a student asking permission to speak from the teacher. "Uh... Don't I get a vote?"

"No," both men snap. Evelyn drops her hand and pouts, successfully chided.

"I have direct orders from, agent Hill," Grant repeats.

"And I know Evie well enough to tell when she wants a confidant. Frankly, I don't think you have the clearance to talk freely with her," Sam retorts.

"How did you know?" Evelyn gawks, in awe. She does want to talk about why Clint is no longer going to be her trainer, and she wants to ask if it is because she's showing signs of slipping and wants pointers on how to better grasp her emotions.

"I know women in general, honey," Sam speaks to her from over his shoulder, smugly may Evelyn add.

He refaces Grant, and says, "You can report me to agent Hill if you wish, but right now I'm thinking about Evie's best interest."

"Fine, I will," Grant replies, straightening his posture and raising his chin to gaze at Sam from beneath his nose. _Someone's pissed._ Evelyn attempts to hold back her amusement.

"You're s_oo_ going to get in trouble," she sings once Grant marches out of the training arena.

"Yeah, well, once we let one of those young, punk agents think that they're the boss, they're all going to become a big pain in the ass," Sam mutters.

"You're just jealous because Grant can take off his shirt whenever he wants to," Evelyn teases.

"Please," Sam scoffs, "I can take off my shirt whenever I want, too. I just have something called class and dignity."

"Plus, a little green bug called-" Evelyn continues her light hazing against the elder agent, but he interrupts her by snapping,"That's it."

To Evelyn's surprise, in one swift and fluid motion, Sam pulls his shirt over his head. "...Wow..." she mouths to herself, eyes wide. Hidden underneath the slightly over-sized t-shirt, Evelyn can tell that Sam definitely has spent quite some time here at the arena. His slim, well defined waist draws most of her attention: his six-pack and back dimples call to her.

Unlike with Grant, who she barely knows, Evelyn reaches out and pokes. Sam squirms. She grins.

"Are you ticklish, agent Grey?" she inquires mischievously.

"No; you're hands are just cold," Sam immediately refutes, non-convincingly. With a wicked smile, Evelyn wiggles her fingers and attacks.

******[·]**

_Lucky S.O.B,_ Evelyn pouts to herself, rinsing her hair out.

After Sam managed to contain Evelyn's "cold" hands, he put his shirt back on and told her that it was time to go back to her room. During the walk over, he asked about what was bothering her, but she didn't tell him about her worries of Clint because it is something she has to get used to (not getting what she wants) while with S.H.I.E.L.D. She in turn asked about Steve's whereabouts, and Sam responded that Steve is no longer his charge; the lucky S.O.B was cleared to live on his own.

Sure, Evelyn is happy that Steve is getting back out there, adjusting to modern time a lot faster than she thought he would. (He seemed pretty dead set on remaining stuck in the past.) But she's been with S.H.I.E.L.D for how long now (much longer than Steve that's for sure), and they're still watching her through hidden cameras.

Wrapping her body in a white, fluffy towel, she steps out from the fogged up shower and heads for the sink to brush her teeth and properly comb her hair before dressing for the day.

Towel drying her hair on the way out from the conjoined bathroom, Evelyn stops when she sees Maria waiting for her at the center of her room. Her thoughts immediately veer towards Sam's doing of taking her away from Grant. So she asks, "Shouldn't you be yelling at Sam, not me?"

"I'm not here to speak about agent Grey's actions. He explained the situation to me, and they were just," the second-in-command replies. "I wanted to ask about your impression on your new trainer. Agent Ward is one of our best."

"I was fine with Clint," Evelyn can't help but comment.

Maria doesn't falter in responding. "Agent Barton is an agent in demand; his time is very valuable." _Hint, hint, his skills can't be wasted on me__-__ you mean,_ Evelyn scowls. She wishes to say her thoughts out loud, but knows better. (Well at least Clint's inability to teach her isn't her fault.) "Agent Ward will teach you well," Maria continues.

Evelyn forces a smile on her lips. "Well... he did okay, I guess." She decides to keep the fact that he took off his shirt, revealing to her his ridiculous body, to herself – a little keepsake.

"Okay then." Maria's smile seems more forced than Evelyn's. "I'll let you get back to your morning studies."

At the mention of her morning duties, which consists of learning a new language (with many more to follow) and studying the S.H.I.E.L.D rule book, she heavily exhales. All boring and tedious. _Is this what normal school is like?_ Evelyn wonders, plopping down on a hard, wooden chair placed next to a vast desk littered with piles of books and work sheets.

Phil enters her room, speaking a foreign language that Evelyn is having trouble in keeping up with. "Uh... What?"

The corner of Phil's mouth curls upwards. "Clearly you've learned nothing in the past two weeks. Doubling up your homework should do the trick." Evelyn groans, throwing her head back and slouches in her seat.

* * *

"Perhaps we picked the wrong man for this job. Agent Grey seems to be a willing candidate."

"Give it time, agent Hill; it's only been one day. I didn't upgrade him simply for his pretty face."

* * *

"Wait, wait; so you're telling me there there is a S.H.I.E.L.D _academy_?" Evelyn stresses one more time, jaw slack with disbelief. "An entire school filled with would be agents."

"Scientists, researchers, field agents." Grant nods.

"How come I don't go there?"

Grant shrugs. "You're a special case. You have something that S.H.I.E.L.D believes needs direct and sole attention."

_Wow, he's good._ Though Grant doesn't know about Evelyn's "special" case, he's very perceptive.

"So when did you graduate?"

"When I was twenty-three," he answers offhandedly, as if commenting on the bleak weather.

"Holy shit." Evelyn gawks. "No wonder they want you to train me, you're e-ffing superman." Grant smiles at her complement, displaying to her his perfectly straight teeth.

"That's enough distraction, get back to work. We've got a lot to cover today." Evelyn huffs; he caught on to her ploy.

Grant is holding down Evelyn's feet while she is doing some sit-ups. Which she is all to willing to do since, again, he has no shirt on. And he looks better up close.

Damn, she really needs to get laid. Is Grant single? Evelyn immediately shakes her head clear of those thoughts when her heart contorts in her chest. The thought of sleeping with another man after Tony seems wrong, like she would be cheating (though he clearly doesn't have the same qualms as her).

Although Evelyn misses Clint's company as a whole, she can't really complain about Grant. Maria is right, Grant is teaching her well. Everything from: hand-to-hand combat, proper weapon treatment and handling, marksman training is covered (in painstakingly explicit detail, may she add).

And all while he has no shirt on. Oh, and did she mention that he doesn't have a shirt on? Very important. She'll listen to just about anyone with a body like his.

"Sorry," Evelyn says, returning to her sit-ups. "I'm dreading going back to my room. Phil gave me more homework to do, and I didn't even get halfway done with it."

"What are you studying?"

"Russian," she mutters, sourly.

"Understandable. Russian is one of the most difficult languages to learn when transferring form English. I know I had a bit of trouble with it."

Evelyn halts in her workout, again. "You know Russian?"

"And five other languages." He nods. "When you're a field agent, S.H.I.E.L.D sends you to all places of the world; it's good to have a few languages in your belt. Simple communication can get you out of most conflict."

Evelyn is sure that her jaw is unflattering hanging open. "Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

"I could tell you yes, but then that list will be pretty short." A sly smirk curves the right corner of his mouth.

"Funny," Evelyn sarcastically drawls, but nonetheless a smile forms on her lips.

"The trick is to immerse yourself in the language. It's how we learned when we were babies, and it works to this day as adults," Grant advises. "If you'd like, I can help you out."

"That would be great!"

"What are you doing for dinner tonight?"

"Same as always: supervised meal in the kitchen."

Grant raises a brow. "You have dinner in the kitchen?"

Evelyn shrugs. "I do lots of things to get out from being in my room."

Grant chuckles. "I'll have a talk with agent Hill. I'm sure she'll let me drop by."

"Oh, don't bother," Evelyn waves her hand dismissively, "you can come without her permission. It's just dinner. I'm sure I can keep myself together through a meal. Additional company will be nice."

Grant shuffles his hands on Evelyn's feet, tightening and loosening his hold.

"You're going to ask her anyway, aren't you?" she inquires, raising a brow in amusement.

Grant nods, his face visibly flushing.

"A real stickler for rules, huh?"

"Just following protocol," he mumbles lamely in return.

Evelyn snickers. "Nerd."

******[·]**

Cutting some fresh vegetables to bake with the duck, Evelyn happily hums quietly to herself while concentrating on her cooking task. This is her favorite part of the day (besides it being the end); no studying, no training, no expectations, and most wonderful of all – no thinking. (Well, mild thinking since she has to read Emily's cooking instructions.)

She is at peace. Briefly it may be, but a peace nonetheless.

"Mm, looks good." Evelyn slaps Sam's hand away from the seasoned melted butter she is going to base the duck with.

"The food will be ready in forty-five minutes, I think you can wait that long to eat."

"Hey, if I knew that you were making all your dinners like this I would come by more often. I'm glad Phil asked me to take his place."

"You act like you don't cook your own meals," Evelyn snorts. When Sam doesn't respond to her retort, she guffaws. "You don't cook your own meals?" she exclaims loudly, in disbelief.

"Steve used to do all that culinary crap," Sam mutters in his defense.

"Then what have you been eating since he left? Take-out?"

"Hey, I can cook; just don't feel like it most of the time."

"Uh-huh," Evelyn replies, unconvinced. "Don't you have one of Emily's cookbooks there. I'm sure I left some before I wasn't allowed to go back. It's all I'm doing here, just have to follow the directions."

"Yeah, perhaps, but it's always better when a woman makes it – something about using love as an ingredient." Scoffing at Sam's remark, Evelyn puts the duck in the oven and then sets the timer for forty-five minutes.

"I hope Grant likes duck," she wonders out loud to herself. "What if he's allergic to garlic or something? Should I have asked him? Oh my God! What if I kill him with my duck?" she shouts, panicked.

Just as Sam parts his lips to reply, Grant makes his presence known by announcing, "You don't have to worry. I'm not allergic to anything. I'm sure your duck will be delicious." Evelyn releases the breath she has been holding in, in relief.

"Agent Grey," Grant greets Sam, offering his hand for a shake.

"Agent Ward," Sam acknowledges.

When the two men politely shake hands, it appears stiff and unwelcoming to Evelyn. She can see the whiteness of the males knuckles and their blue veins as they apply more pressure than necessary in their grip.

_Men_. She rolls her eyes.

Grant looks casual, yet still neatly groomed, in his denim jeans, plain white shirt, black leather jacket, and brown boots. Not even a single wrinkle. (Much to Evelyn's dismay seeing as how her hands are currently greasy, and she's been wiping her palms carelessly on her clothing.)

"I brought wine," says Grant. He yanks his hand free from Sam's hold. "But I didn't realize that we would have company. I hope one bottle will be enough."

"Phil canceled and sent Sam in his place for supervision," Evelyn explains.

"Ah." Grant nods curtly at Sam.

The younger agent turns his attention to Evelyn, offering her the wine bottle with a charming smile. "What a coincidence, because this goes great with duck."

"Ooh, yay." Evelyn greedily takes the bottle, smiling brightly down on it. She hasn't had a drink in, well, since she got here. About time she has a taste. "Now I can really relax." She directs her smile up at Grant. "Thank you. Just what we needed to make this meal perfect."

However, Sam turns into a killjoy and fun sucker. "No alcohol." He snatches the bottle from Evelyn's hands.

"Aw, what?" she whines.

"One glass won't do any harm," Grant declares. Evelyn points at him, nodding eagerly in agreement.

Sam doesn't budge. "She's not allowed to have any alcohol," he stubbornly refutes.

Grant rolls his eyes. "I already cleared it with agent Hill. One glass, nothing more."

Evelyn's earlier merriment of a promising dinner with pleasant company has long since dissipated when Sam said that she isn't allowed to have alcohol. He and Grant are conversing like she isn't there listening to them bickering. She's not some child who needs permission to have a cookie before supper just in case it ruins her appetite. Or in this case, she can't have any alcohol because it will lower her inhibitions and may leave a path open for Drusilla to surface (or so S.H.I.E.L.D thinks). But she's stronger than they assume, and now she just has to try harder to prove it.

"I guess one glass will be fine," Sam seems reluctant to agree. He can't exactly go against Maria, his superior officer.

"Don't bother, I don't want any anymore," Evelyn deadpans. She turns her back to the two men, making believe that she is preparing for dinner, so that they won't see the hurt in her eyes.

No one has faith in her. Well... Tony did. But that was all an act to get into her pants (which succeeded, the douche).

"Evie... I'm sorry, it's just-"

"The rules, yeah, gotcha," she interrupts Sam. She sharply turns around on the balls of her feet, waving a knife carelessly in the air. "Hello, my name is Evelyn Addams, and I come with an instructions manual," she sarcastically sneers.

"Evie, the knife- the knife! Watch the knife!"

"Oh, come off it, Sam," Evelyn scoffs, "It's not like I'm going to stab you." To dissolve Sam's worry, she twirls the hilt of the blade in her hand with finesse that she doesn't know she has and then stabs the blade deep within the cutting board. When she realizes what she has done, she gapes down at the knife in awe. "Um... How did I do that without cutting off a finger?"

"I... don't... know..." Sam edges closer to Evelyn cautiously, and he takes the knife into his possession. Evelyn doesn't try to stop him.

"Well, this is not how I imagined our date going," says Grant.

Evelyn swiftly faces Grant. "Date? You... You thought that this is a _date_? But... I thought that you were just going to help me with my Russian."

"I thought that when you mentioned you need my help, it was to spend more time together," Grant replies with a furrow in his brow.

"You offered to help me!" she retorts.

Evelyn's mouth open and closes, she's in shock. "You actually want to be on a date with _me_?" She makes sure to point at herself.

Grant nods. "Of course I do. I think you're interesting."

"I... I'm so sorry, Grant. I didn't know," she genuinely apologizes.

"It's okay. Maybe next time will be better."

At the mention of "next time" – a date with Grant – her inner alarms blare because then it hits her... she's single. She and Tony... No more Tony; all a lie. Being with anyone besides him... She loved him..._loves_ him. It's too soon. She just lost him.

Evelyn shakes her head. "No. No, Grant, I can't... I can't because," she sits down shakily on a chair, "because even though he never cared, I did – _I do_." She looks up at Grant, eyes stinging with upcoming tears. "And it may be stupid, but I'm not ready to give that all up yet. I want to hold on a little longer. I've... I've never been in love before. It feels," a wistful smile briefly graces her lips, "_felt_ nice." She sighs. "It's not you... it's Tony- I mean me. It's me. I still..." Turning her watery gaze to Sam, she asks rather hopefully, "I think I will like that glass of wine, please."

"You and me both, princess," the older agent replies, already uncorking the wine Grant brought with him. The expression on his face tells Evelyn that he knows exactly what she is going through.

_That's right... He still loves Pepper, too._ Evelyn smiles solemnly.

Clearing her throat, she directs to Grant. "Now, lets not let this unpleasantness ruin our dinner, yes? But if you'd like, you can go."

* * *

"She still has feelings for Mr. Stark."

"As I plainly saw."

"Shall I continue pursuing, sir?"

"No. You've done well, agent Ward. Welcome to Level Six. See agent Hill for your next assignment."

"Will I no longer be Evie's S.O.?"

"Evie?"

"Miss Addams. Sorry, sir. She was very... adamant... that I call her Evie."

"...No, agent Ward, you will no longer be her supervising officer. I have something else in mind for her now."

"Sir, if I may ask: Who is she?"

"I've been asking myself that same question since we found her."

* * *

**(A/N) Author's Note:** I want to make a gif set for Evie and Loki, but I don't really have any ideas. Do you have any? If I chose your idea I'll give you credit on the post on Tumblr :) Heck, maybe I'll even choose two or more.


	5. Fair Warning

**Season oƒ the Witch**  
_An Iron Man 2, Thor, and Avengers Fanfiction_

_Season oƒ the Witch © F0REVERM0RE _  
_Iron Man 2, Thor, and the Avengers © Marvel Studios_

* * *

**Chapter Five:  
****_Fair Warning_**

For some reason, Evelyn takes a bath this morning rather than waiting until after her sweaty workout to do so. She wants to feel the water running along her back, giving her a lame excuse of a massage. But it works, her muscles which are tense with anxiety slowly undo and let her shoulders go lax comfortably.

She would rather be in bed, hidden underneath the comfort of her sheets and wishing for them to simply engulf her entire being and place her somewhere else where there are no worries in the universe. However, no such place exists. (And if it did, S.H.I.E.L.D will most likely go searching for her.)

She has to face Grant today. Oh God. What does he think of her now? Evelyn bets her all expenses paid credit card that Grant hasn't been turned down by a woman in, like, ever.

Sure, she was all too willing to flirt a little, it has been awhile since she has received any attention; and yes, she liked to ogle him like a horny teenager (he's freaking beautiful!); but she never expected for him to recuperate to her advances. She figured that a guy like him is taken, gay, or not interested. It's not like she's exactly a ten or anything, maybe like a six-and-a-half tops – calling herself a seven would be pushing it.

Wiping clear the condensation on her mirror, Evelyn gazes at her reflection with listless and tired eyes. She doesn't recognize the woman in the mirror anymore.

Slowly inhaling and exhaling, she says to herself, "You can get through this. You're going to be okay. Just another day closer to..." To what? Why is she here again? To control Drusilla, yes, of course, naturally, but was she actually going to say: "Just another day closer to getting back to Tony?" That was her original plan. But what now? What's at the other end of the tunnel waiting for her?

No one.

Great, now she made herself depressed. What a wonderful way to start the day.

Dressing into one of her newly acquired workout clothes (to appease Grant) and a pair of running shoes, Evelyn leans beside her room's doorway to wait for Phil to open the door and escort her to the training arena.

The familiar seven digit beeps that are the access code to her room causes for Evelyn to stand at attention in front of her doorway. When the door slides open, Phil greets her with a smile.

"Good morning, Evelyn."

"Good morning, Phil," she replies, detached.

"Are you ready to begin your day?" he asks. Evelyn nods, listless, and Phil steps aside so that she has enough room to pass around him.

"I apologize for not being able to make it to dinner last night. I was otherwise engaged."

"It's fine." She carelessly shrugs. "If S.H.I.E.L.D has taught me anything, it's that I shouldn't get my hopes up for disappointment is around every corner; better prepare myself before hand."

"That is not our intention at all. We're here to help you."

"Sure doesn't feel like it," Evelyn snorts.

"Are you-"

"Don't," Evelyn interrupts. "Just...don't. I hate that every five minutes someone is asking me: Are you all right? Like if I say 'no' one day- what will you do? I'm immune to the sedatives," she snaps. "I'm fine. I'm in control, there's no Drusilla lurking beneath the surface, and isn't that all you guys fucking care about anyway?"

Phil stares back at Evelyn with a guarded and unreadable expression on his face. Evelyn doesn't like the way he of all people is staring at her. She hates that look—judgment.

"I think I can manage on my own to make it to the arena in one piece." Evelyn stumps off in the direction of the training facility, but then she has to circle back around and huffs. "No I can't, I don't have the code."

Phil leads Evelyn the rest of the way, completely silent and it's getting on her nerves. She knows that she didn't have a reason to explode on him the way she did, but she's too afraid to try and apologize. There's no excuse for him to forgive her.

When Evelyn is beyond the door of the arena, fully inside, Phil leaves her without another word.

Her hands tingle and she clenches them open and closed. She wants to punch something, to relieve some of this aggravation. However, she finds a person in the warehouse that she doesn't expect to see.

"Where's Grant?" she asks Sam.

Sam shrugs, continuing to wrap his hands with boxing tape. "Don't know. They sent me to take his place in training you from now on."

"Of course they did," Evelyn mutters under her breath.

"Could be because of conflict of interest."

"All I wanted is a little time!" she protests, defending herself. "I didn't mean too... GAH," she tugs at her hair, "I should have just dated the man!"

"You can't force yourself to fall out of love, Evie. It doesn't work that way," says Sam.

"But he's Grant. Have you seen his face? When am I ever going to gain interest from a guy like him again? From any guy period."

Sam sharply faces Evelyn, pointing a finger at her face. "Don't think like that ever. Once you give up hope in yourself that's when you truly lose everything."

"But I did this all for him, Sam; to become a better person _for him_. And now... now there's no one waiting for me out there anymore. And that's even if I get out."

"You have the rest of your life to live for. Yes, the ultimate asshole broke your heart, but I hate to break it to you, honey, but that's life. You're going to get your heart broken many more times until one day – and that day will come, Evie – you're going to find the one. The one person who will be worth all that heartache you'll go through. The one who will not only mend your heart, but your soul."

Evelyn gazes up at Sam with a new found sense of respect. "How did you do it though? How did you get over it... over her?"

"Who said that I'm over her?" The corner of Sam's lips twitches as he attempts to form a smile. "When you love someone who doesn't love you back, you just...cope. Cope and wish them the best. Would you rather Stark be as miserable as you are? Or would you want him to be happy?"

"I want him to be miserable and suffer immensely," Evelyn stubbornly replies while pouting childishly. Sam raises a brow at her. Slowly, her shoulders sag, and she sighs. "You're right."

Sam clamps a hand on Evelyn's shoulder. "You'll get through this, Evie. It's like you said, it just takes time." He gently squeezes. "I have faith in you."

If Evelyn isn't in awe of him already, she sure is now. The vibrating sensation in her palms disappear as quick as they appeared. "Thank you, Sam."

"Now" —Sam backs away, bumping his fists together— "how about we release some of that pent up frustration. Show me what that pretty boy has taught you."

Nodding, Evelyn tries to concentrate on the offensive and defensive movements both Grant and Clint taught her when she strikes at Sam, but he blocks her jabs and swings with precision. Evelyn continues on the offense, and not once does Sam switch from the defense. She grows frustrated that she can't land a single blow on him and strikes harder. Sam knocks her back; Evelyn falls to the floor and lands on her backside, a hiss escapes through clenched teeth.

"You're distracted."

Every time Evelyn gives it her all, is in full focus, she is always met with a comment about her concentration from her instructor whenever she isn't successful. "Am not," she snaps, irate. "I'm fully focused."

"Doesn't seem like it," Sam replies. "I know the difference, and you're not giving me your full attention which is leaving you open to attack."

"I'm telling you, I'm focused!"

"Then clearly you haven't learned a thing."

Something within Evelyn snaps. An almost inhuman, guttural growl rumbles within her throat. She – with such speed that not only shocks her, but apparently Sam, as well – lunges at him.

She throws a right hook, putting her entire weight into it. Upon reflex, Sam deflects her swing with a left block and then with his right he thrusts an open palm at her inner-elbow. Evelyn spins in a full 360-degree circle, when she comes back around she lifts her leg to deliver a blow to his side. As she predicted, Sam is anticipating the kick and he catches her foot. Without missing a beat, Evelyn jumps and spins; her free foot swings around and hits its mark, his face. With a grunt, Sam drops his hold on Evelyn and staggers to the side. Arching her back, Evelyn's open hands catch her fall and she flips, her feet connect with his chin, sending him back. However, her feet do not touch the ground. She twirls on her hands and maneuvers her body, using her upper-body strength gained from years of professional ballet, so that her lower half swings and sweeps Sam's feet from under him.

Remaining in a crouching position, with her right leg extended to the side, Evelyn glares at the stunned Sam.

Clapping rouses Evelyn from her fogged mind, she turns her head around to find that it is coming from Nick. He's alone.

Realizing what she has done, Evelyn sharply turns back to face Sam who is lifting himself up from the mat. She swiftly rises to stand and apologizes. "I'm sorry, Sam, I didn't-"

"It's fine," he interrupts, rubbing the back of his neck. "Note to self: know when to stop pushing people's buttons. Especially yours." Evelyn cracks a weak smile.

"You should never apologize for taking down an opponent, Miss Addams," Nick announces from the background. "Seems we're finally doing something right for you for a change."

"Director Fury." Sam stands at attention, his back fully erect. "What can I do for you?"

Evelyn gazes at Sam's sudden change in behavior with a comical expression: nose scrunched, brow furrowed, lips puckered. She keeps forgetting that Nick is the top honcho and basically everybody has to stop what they are doing immediately to practically salute the man. If this action is on the test for her to become an agent, she is sure to fail.

"I need to have a word in private with Miss Addams," Nick says to Evelyn without his gaze wavering, though it is obvious that he's speaking to Sam.

Evelyn goes rigid. Oh crap, did Phil report her outburst? Is Nick here to tell her that she has to go back to the cell? Double up on her security? Or, the most horrid of choices, is she getting a handler change? Is Phil leaving her?

As if sensing her discomfort, Sam gives Evelyn's hand a reassuring squeeze before he departs. She in turn watches his retreating back, panicked.

"Shall we adjourn to my office."

"But that's..." Evelyn stops herself, she was about to say that his office is all the way at the other side of the base, but he's not asking her to go, he's telling her. She nods. "Okay."

The silence is eating away at Evelyn. Nick is walking with a calm exterior, his hands clasped behind his back. With Evelyn, every step she takes feels like her last. Her legs are shaking and want to give out from underneath her. When Nick decides to say something, Evelyn's nerves jump.

"Agent Coulson informed me that you are not satisfied with your stay."

Evelyn doesn't respond, she doesn't know how to- what to say. So she is getting in trouble.

"Let me ask you something. Does this look like a five star hotel to you?" Nick asks. However, before Evelyn can respond, he continues, "No. You're here to learn how to control Drusilla so that when you leave you can have a semi-normal life. We did have one other option, but we decided to offer you our aid instead of imprisonment. Complete control doesn't come with a snap of the fingers, and most of the time lessons of control won't be pleasant. But do understand, Miss Addams, we do want to help."

Feeling thoroughly chided, Evelyn's chin drops down to her chest, her gaze focuses on the tile, and she lightly drags her feet.

"However," Nick heavily sighs, "I know that you differ from our usual pick for a recruit. And I know when one of my own is losing their way." Evelyn switches her gaze up to Nick, her brows furrow with confusion.

The door leading into Nick's office parts open. Nick goes in first, Evelyn hesitantly follows, and he points to his left. "Tell me what that says."

Following the direction of Nick's finger, Evelyn sees a large monitor with an open internet browser window. What the window pertains to causes for a sinking sensation to form in her chest. She clenches her hands which suddenly became clammy.

"Eight days, fifteen hours, fifty-two minutes, twelve seconds until the opening of Stark Expo," Evelyn reads. "Why are you...?" She turns back to face Nick, but her question drifts off when she sees that he is extending to her a ticket. Her gaze locks with his, her mouth hanging wide open.

"Naturally, you're going to need an escort." Nick moves the one ticket to the side to show that he has two. Evelyn refrains from rolling her eyes. "But," he over enunciates, "instead of your usual company with agent Coulson, you get to chose who goes with you. Anyone you want."

Evelyn's interest piques. "Anyone I want?"

Nick nods. "Anyone."

"Sam," Evelyn immediately replies.

"You don't want to take a mom-"

"Nope, I want Sam to come. No offense to Phil, but Sam would be more relaxed and have fun and look less...secret agent-y. Besides, he hasn't really had anything to do since Steve left. He could use a night out almost as much as me. Well, unless Clint is back from his super secret mission thingy?" Evelyn asks hopefully.

"I'll inform, agent Grey," Nick answers. Evelyn pouts, and she could have sworn that she sees him try to hold back a smirk. Jerk.

"Now, if you'll be patient, I'll call for someone to take you to your room so you can resume your schedule." Nick gestures towards one of the chairs placed in front of his desk.

**[·]**

Evelyn keeps flicking her gaze back and forth between Phil and her workbook. Meanwhile the end of her pencil is bouncing repeatedly off of the table's surface. She can't focus on school work when she's in the wrong. Nervously biting her bottom lip, she decides to do something about her guilt. However, before she can react to her want, Phil does it for her.

"Something on your mind, Evelyn?"

Evelyn, filled with remorse, looks into Phil's eyes. He seems to know exactly what she is thinking.

"There is no need for an apology, Evelyn."

"Yes there is."

"No, there isn't," he firmly replies.

Evelyn's lips press together to form a thin line. She breaks eye contact. "Okay."

"Perhaps you've had enough for today." Phil begins collecting his teaching materials into one pile, preparing to leave.

"What? No, I can do this," she protests.

"Clearly you can't," he snaps. Evelyn blinks, she is taken aback. Phil never snapped at her like that before. Gathering his materials in his arms, Phil says, "Take the day to clear your head. We'll pick this up again tomorrow." Evelyn nods, eyes downcast.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she looks back up at Phil. He has his usual small and attentive smile on his lips. "Don't worry, it's just a bit of cabin fever." Gently, he squeezes her shoulder. "I've heard about your upcoming night out. Good for you, you need one."

"I-" she begins to try to explain why she didn't invite him, but he interrupts.

"I have the utmost faith that agent Grey will take care of you."

Evelyn smiles weakly in response.

Phil heads off towards the door and begins entering the code to get out. Evelyn can hear the keypad beep in acceptance and the door slide open.

"Evelyn," Phil calls to her. Evelyn looks at him from over her shoulder. He nods at her once. "It does get better." She nods back at him, not entirely believing him.

"Okay."

When the door closed behind Phil, Evelyn keeps her gaze on it as she taps her pencil against the table's surface, again. Her mouth moves to the side, lips pursed. She looks away.

She knows he's right. Maybe she does need the rest of the day to clear her head, get her mind straight. But in order to do that, that means she has to go to the place between sleep and wake to begin mending the seal, the place where Drusilla resides in her mind; and lately Drusilla has been quite verbose on certain topics such as "Why haven't you banged, agent Sexy, yet? Why haven't you banged anybody? You're not the only one in this body who has needs." Kind of makes it hard to concentrate with that yapping on in your ear.

Exhaling heavily, Evelyn's shoulders slump. She sprawls out her arms across the table, groaning as her forehead thuds against the surface.

It's only 9:30 in the morning. She's locked in her room and can't get out. What is she going to do? She can't spend the entire day in the place between sleep and wake, she doesn't like Drusilla much to stand her presence for that long.

Lifting her head and resting her chin on top of the table, Evelyn's eyes roam the interiors of her room. She has the bare essentials: a twin sized bed, a dresser, a bathroom, and her wall full of monitors complete with a satellite feed.

She could watch TV, but she hasn't turned it on since learning of Tony's relapse into womanizing. She's afraid that she might see something she won't like about him. But then again, surely there has to be at least one station that doesn't deal with news on the S.H.I.E.L.D satellite.

Deciding to give watching television a shot, Evelyn heaves herself off her seat and pushes the button underneath the corner edge. Both the chair and table lowers down into the floor and is replaced with a large oval rug. While heading for the remote which is on her nightstand, she strips naked to change into a comfortable nightgown (might as well seeing as how she isn't going anywhere any time soon). Flopping back on her bed, sighing in content as she sinks in, Evelyn turns on the TV and flips through the channels. (She quickly changes the station like the speed of light whenever she sees Tony's face or his Iron Man suit.)

_Ooh, a _Doctor Who_ marathon_. Perhaps she won't be needing to go to the place between sleep and wake. A day spent simply being a lazy ass and watching TV may do the trick. She'll even order in some snacks and drinks to set up camp.

**[·]**

"Evelyn," a low, sultry voice echoes. "Evelyn. Wake up, star shine, there's much to be discussed."

Evelyn groans, rolling over in bed. "Can't I have one more day off?"

"Loving the first break you've had in the past six months? Aw," the voice coos, "I know what that feels like. Those two days I had to myself in your body were pure bliss. I had so much fun, if you know what I mean. More than you ever had in your entire life," they mutter dryly.

Horrified, Evelyn sharply sits up. When she meets the familiar orbs like a black abyss, she yelps and scampers off the bed, falling off the edge. The back of her head bounces off the marble floor and she hisses, clutching the sore spot. The pain sears like heat in the back of her head, spreading to the top of her cranium.

As the pain subsides, she frantically takes in her surroundings. The bed she fell off of is vast in size, the biggest she has ever seen before, and the frame is made from a dark wood with strange designs carved into the posts. Directly across from the bed is a large open terrace. A gust of wind blows aside the transparent curtains, revealing a breathtaking view of a glimmering, golden city with a bridge in the distance that glints off various colors, like a rainbow.

"Where am I?" Evelyn demands. She turns her attention to Drusilla who is perched on the edge of the mattress, looking down on her. "How did I get here?"

"You are in Asgard. Well, what I remember of it. I never really paid attention to what was out of the window, only who was beside me warming the sheets."

"Asgard?" Evelyn questions, bewildered. She's never heard of a place called Asgard.

"Don't worry about it – a distant memory." Drusilla waves Evelyn off impassively. "I recreate this room to remind myself why I'm here."

"You built this place..." Evelyn murmurs in awe, "...in _my_ head."

Drusilla raises a brow at her. "What? Did you actually think that I stayed in pure darkness the entire time I've been sealed away, like some kind of savage. You're in my domain now, Evelyn. That fogged up shit hole you've been experiencing – that place between "sleep and wake" as you call it – is your doing, not mine."

"You're getting stronger," Evelyn murmurs to herself.

"I haven't been sitting idly by playing solitaire while you go and play secret agent in training," Drusilla drawls. "Your strength is my strength."

Evelyn's eyes snap up to Drusilla's, her mouth slightly ajar. The entire time she has been training to get stronger, to have an edge over Drusilla, is all for nothing. The strength she gains, Drusilla gains as well. Of course, how else could it be? They share the same damn body!

What if S.H.I.E.L.D finds out? Imprisonment was already on their agenda before Nick changed his mind and decided to help her instead. But if he learns of this, he'll lock her up for sure. Indefinitely.

"Why did you bring me here?" Evelyn asks.

"To give you a fair warning, it's the least I can do because of our... history. If you can even call it that." The smirk slowly falls off Drusilla's face, morphing into a slight frown. "But you were my friend once. Didn't really have many of those." Evelyn squirms, uncomfortable, by Drusilla's remark; she avoids eye contact.

"You see, little Evelyn, like it or not I am getting stronger, and there's nothing you can do about it. Sooner or later – most likely the former – I will gain control. And when I do." She spreads her arms wide in a sweeping motion. "Enjoy."

Evelyn hears the creaking of the mattress from the shifting of weight, she looks up back at Drusilla who rises to stand. With slow, long strides Drusilla saunters around the perimeter of the bed over to where Evelyn is still on the floor. Kneeling down beside Evelyn, Drusilla's expression is stoic as she says, "I feel for you, Evelyn. Really I do. You are on a familiar path. You don't need me making it worse towards the end."

Drusilla's cryptic words make Evelyn feel constricted. Fear creeps up her spine, leaving a trail of highly sensitive tingles in its wake much like electricity. Her heart beats rapidly in her chest, blood rushes to her ears to where she can hear each pound. Tears pool beneath her eyes, a lone one strays down her left cheek.

Leaning in close, Drusilla surprisingly plants a gentle kiss on Evelyn's temple before shifting down to Evelyn's ear, whispering, "I'll leave you in peace. For now. And when I gain control, I promise you won't feel a thing."

The first to open are Evelyn's eyes and then her mouth so she can lick her trembling lips. The aftereffects of being in Drusilla's realm is taking its toll on her body: a thin layer of sweat coats her skin making her nightgown stick uncomfortably, her limbs are heavy and refuse to budge, her mind is foggy, and her senses are dull. A static like sensation erupts at the tips of her fingers and toes, slowly traveling up her limbs and sending her nerves on hyper drive. Gaining feeling in her body, Evelyn sharply sits up, gasping large gulps of air.

The lights are still off, the Tenth Doctor is rambling on in the background, and she's surrounded by empty chip bags and cans of soda.

All that is running through Evelyn's mind is that the end is coming. Drusilla didn't have to warn her but she did. She's getting stronger because Evelyn is getting stronger. Hell, she probably had the upper hand since the beginning; she's been in Evelyn's head for years, waiting, lurking, thinking.

And if Evelyn tells anyone about it...

Curling up into a ball on her bed, resting her forehead against her knees, Evelyn squeezes tightly. She cries because all she wants is a hug, someone to hold her close and tell her that it is going to be okay (even if it's a lie), but no one is there.

She never felt so alone in her life.


End file.
